


our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor

by luthien82



Series: Senator Blaine AU [21]
Category: Generation Kill, Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, American Politics, Angst, Arguing, Banter, Blow Jobs, Children, Domestic, Established Relationship, F/M, Feminist Themes, Fluff, Frustration, Hand Jobs, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Mild D/s, Miscarriage, Miscommunication, Patriotism, Political Campaigns, Political Speeches, Verbal Slurs, mild panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-21 06:33:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 43,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luthien82/pseuds/luthien82
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Blaine started his career as a senator all these years ago, he always thought it would make him happy for the rest of his life. But when the new administration takes over the White House, Blaine starts to re-evaluate his priorities. With the support of Kurt and his closest friends and colleagues, as well as some key players in Washington, he decides to go on a whole new adventure that might change his life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is it: the final part of the Senator!Blaine AU! It's been quite a journey, and I'm glad I arrived at the finish line. And what a finish line it turned out to be. I always knew that the series would end with this particular event, I just didn't know, when I started writing this, that it would turn into half a novel. In any case, before I sent this fic off to my beta, I was sure that everyone already knew where I would take this. Then she got back to me and assured me she'd had _no idea_ that this would happen, so now I'm not sure. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, this fic has been occupying my time for almost three months now.
> 
> The rating is for a later chapter. Nothing much explicit happens in the early ones. On a side note: While tagging this fic, I stumbled across a tag called "Talking Penis". Now I'm torn between intrigued and disturbed...
> 
> I will post one chapter a day until it's all up (which, if my maths skills are correct, is December 24th), just to give you guys time to breathe in between and not slap you in the face with almost 42k of fic all at once.
> 
> Massive thanks go to my beta **Maria** , who is magic and should be worshipped because she was done with this in under a day! Also a quick shout out to **cassiopaya** , my favorite lurker who can now finally start reading this 'verse.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Glee and its characters are the intellectual property of Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk and 20th Century Fox. No profit is made, this has been written purely for fun.

* * *

Blaine was sitting on their couch, a briefing package for a meeting in his lap and C-SPAN running quietly in the background, when one of the headlines in the bottom ticker caught his attention. He stared at it in sheer disbelief for a moment, then cursed under his breath. “How did they ever think that would be a good idea?” he asked the empty living room, clutching the edges of his manuscript. “Jesus, I thought we were over this crap.”

“What’s going on?”

Kurt’s voice was accompanied by his hand stroking over Blaine’s shoulder as he rounded the couch. Blaine looked up at him briefly, then gestured at the TV. “The White House. Apparently they thought it progressive to re-introduce the idea of cutting back on the education budget. We’ve been over this before, we’ve _lived_ the clusterfuck of it before. Did they sleep through their history lessons?”

Kurt patted his thigh, his gaze on the TV to read the ticker. His eyebrows went up after a moment and he turned to look at Blaine, disbelief in his eyes. “I hope the senate will put a stop to that shit.”

“Well, _I_ certainly won’t vote in favor of cutting the education budget.”

“Glad to hear it,” Kurt smiled and gave him a quick kiss against the corner of his mouth before patting his leg one more time and standing back up. “Now put your briefing notes away, dinner’s ready.”

Blaine’s face softened when he looked up at Kurt. He reached out with his hand, tugging on the hem of Kurt's shirt until he leaned back down, then lifted his chin and gave Kurt a kiss on the lips. “You’re too good for me,” he murmured, kissing Kurt’s smile when it appeared.

“You’re selling yourself short, Senator Anderson,” he replied, quiet and gentle and with so much love in his blue eyes. Blaine’s heart thumped hard in his chest. Even after all these years, Kurt’s smile could still make him breathless.

“Come on, get up,” Kurt coaxed, patting Blaine’s knee. “Dinner’s getting cold.”

Blaine sighed, looked down at the briefing notes he still had left to read, then put them aside and stood up. One quick glance at the TV made him shake his head once more, before he followed Kurt into their kitchen and pushed the matter out of his head.

* * *

For some reason, the cut of the education budget was just the beginning of a string of moronic ideas getting sanctioned by the White House. Three months of stupid decision after stupid decision left Blaine this close to frothing at the mouth in sheer frustration. He was working his ass off to encourage his fellow senators – and quite a few representatives as well - not to vote in favor of these idiotic proposals, which was harder in some cases than others and required all of his negotiation skills. He was tired and cranky and only Kurt’s undying support helped him to stay sane.

He was watching another show on C-SPAN, with the Deputy Chief of Staff trying to justify the most recent reintroduction of a nationwide ban on abortions, when Blaine had enough and threw his binder at the TV. “I can’t believe you just _said_ that, you sorry excuse for a human being!” he yelled, heart thumping hard and fast in his chest. He fell back into the couch cushions, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the man on his TV screen. He couldn’t believe the sheer stupidity that had invaded the White House with the last election. If they continued like that, they would run this country faster into the ground than the Bush generations ever had.

He startled when Kurt pressed his lips against Blaine's ear and whispered, “Breathe, sweetheart.”

Blaine slumped in on himself and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Kurt made a soothing sound behind him and started massaging his shoulders. Blaine relaxed gradually, feeling the tension bleed out of him slowly until his head fell forward in utter bliss. He let out a satisfied moan when Kurt hit a particularly stubborn spot right at the top of his spine, and when Kurt started to chuckle, he chimed in with his own.

“Sorry I threw the binder at the TV,” he mumbled, rotating his head slowly to give Kurt’s hands better access. “But this idiot drives me _nuts_.”

“I know.”

“Seriously, where did he learn to run a country? At his country club?” Blaine raged, albeit less furiously than he'd been a few minutes ago. “He’s so far removed from reality that I want to hit him over the head repeatedly until his stupidity falls out.”

“I know.”

“You know what really bothers me though? That this dumb administration will probably be re-elected because this country doesn’t like to change presidents after four years. No, we have to give the morons four more years of time to run the country into the ground. Sometimes I think this country has to have change forced upon it or we'd still be stuck in the middle ages.”

Kurt didn’t say anything to that, and when Blaine recapped the words in his head, he sighed and rubbed his forehead. “That was stupid. Forget I said that.”

“You do have a point,” Kurt answered gently, stopping his massage and letting his hands rest on Blaine’s shoulders.

Blaine shook his head. “Nobody forced anyone to elect a black man as their president. Or re-elect him, for that matter. Nobody forced anyone to elect the first woman as president either.”

There was silence for a moment, then Kurt leaned over him and pressed a kiss against his temple. “Here’s a thought, then.”

Blaine opened his eyes and turned his head until he met Kurt’s gaze. He was smiling in that mysterious way that always made Blaine feel like he could do anything as long as Kurt was by his side. Kurt’s smile turned mischievous when he raised an eyebrow and asked, “Have you ever considered running for president yourself?”

The words hit him like a freight train and he gaped at Kurt in surprise. He _knew_ he did, and he probably looked pretty stupid right now, but he couldn’t help it. Because he could honestly say he’d never even thought about it. He loved what he was doing, and he loved this country and its people. He wanted to do everything he could to help make it a better place to live, yet he’d never really thought about running for the highest office.

Until now.

Kurt pressed a light kiss against his slack lips and straightened back up. “Just think about it,” he said, walking quietly out of the room. Blaine remained seated, staring into nothingness. It was ridiculous, that's what it was. Nobody got elected over a reigning president, not in this country. He would be completely crazy to go for it in the next election. It was almost certainly equal to political suicide.

But the seed was planted. And Blaine being Blaine, he took Kurt’s advice and thought about what he'd said.

* * *

He was still thinking about it four weeks later, when he was interrupted in his paperwork by the intercom beeping and Laura saying, “Gabriel Colbert is here. He'd like to speak to you if you have a minute.”

Blaine frowned, surprised. He’d seen Colbert around Washington for the last five years, ever since he started as an intern at his godfather's think tank. He was a young man in his mid-twenties that had wit and a bucketload full of charm in his arsenal. In a nutshell, he was walking in his godfather’s pretty big footsteps, giving even him a run for his money. What could someone like Colbert possibly want with Blaine?

“Send him in,” Blaine replied, curious now.

The door opened and Blaine stood up to greet the 6’2 tall young man who was giving him a friendly smile. “Senator Anderson!” he greeted, reaching for his hand and shaking it warmly. Blaine couldn’t help but smile back.

“Mr. Colbert, it's nice to see you again. Have a seat.”

Colbert did, folding himself into one of Blaine’s visitor chairs. Blaine was thankful for that; he always felt dwarfed by the tall man, but he supposed you couldn’t fight genetics. Blaine had met Colbert’s father once, and the man was even taller than his son, standing proud and ramrod straight at parade rest, his blue eyes piercing yet full of affection whenever they landed on his son.

“Thank you for seeing me at such short notice,” Colbert said, looking a little sheepish.

Blaine waved his concerns away. “It’s fine, I had a free block. What can I do for you?”

Colbert squirmed in his seat, rubbing his hands on his thighs. Blaine cocked his head, now more curious than ever at the man's obvious nervousness. After a moment, Colbert cleared his throat and said, “I’ve been following your work for a while now. Especially your recent agenda to stop as much of the stupidity that's currently rolling down from the White House as you can, trying to prevent it from becoming actual law.”

Blaine scoffed. “Yeah, well. It’s not really a secret. I’ve been pretty vocal about it.”

“That’s actually why I’m here.” Colbert paused, taking a deep breath. His blue eyes locked in on Blaine like a honing beacon. “Have you ever considered running for president yourself?”

Blaine’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, a little caught off guard to hear the exact same words that Kurt had said to him from the mouth of a man he barely knew. He couldn’t help the small chuckle at the heavy sense of déjà vu, and when Colbert looked curiously at him, he said, “It’s funny you should ask.”

“Why’s that?”

Blaine’s chuckle turned into a fond smile. “Because my husband asked me the exact same question a few weeks ago.”

Colbert’s face cleared at that, then smiled. It was a boyish smile with a blink-and-you'll-miss-it dimple on his cheek. It had probably broken quite a few hearts in its time, Blaine was sure, but in him it only inspired paternal affection for this young man.

“So, have you?”

“Have I what?” Blaine asked.

Colbert grinned cheekily. “Thought about it.”

Blaine cocked his head slightly, squinting at him. Screw this, something was going on here and Blaine wanted to know what it was. “What do you want, Mr. Colbert?”

He seemed surprised by Blaine's directness, but he regained his composure with enviable speed and answered, “I want you to run for president, and I want to run the campaign for you.”

Well, _that_ was certainly a surprise. Blaine leaned back in his seat, regarding the young man sitting in front of his desk. He was calm and collected and so _sure_ of himself. It wasn’t so much that Blaine wasn’t confident in Colbert being able to pull off a presidential campaign, and probably win it too. What _surprised_ him was the simple fact that he’d come to _Blaine_. Blaine was a Democrat.

Gabriel Colbert was not.

“Why me?” he finally settled on asking the most pressing question currently running through his mind.

Colbert shrugged. “Because out of all the possible contenders? You’re the one who has the best shot at steering this country back on track.”

Blaine coughed. “You do realize it’s your party that’s currently steering it off the road, right?”

Colbert just held his gaze. “Believe me, it wasn’t my idea to nominate him.”

Blaine nodded, vaguely remembering the outcry from the more liberal wing of the Republican Party when their presidential candidate had been declared. It’d been a little hilarious, to be honest. But it stopped being hilarious when Gordon actually won.

Blaine rubbed his forehead, suddenly tired to his bones. Kurt’s words, the ones that had planted the idea of possibly helping his fellow citizens on a bigger scale, were still ringing in his head. And now here Gabriel Colbert sat, poster boy for the Republican Party, asking to run his campaign for him. This was so surreal on so many levels that Blaine was only half convinced he wasn't dreaming the whole thing up.

But maybe it was time that people forgot the limitations of political parties and just joined each other where their beliefs intersected and overlapped.

Looking back up, Blaine smiled lopsidedly. “I doubt your father will be pleased.”

Colbert snorted, then waved his hand dismissively. “Dad got used to liberal Republicans when he stayed friends with Uncle Nate. It’s his own damn fault for making him my godfather. He knew what he was getting himself into.”

“Maybe he’d hoped you would be a good influence on your uncle?”

Colbert actually laughed. “No way. Dad’s a planner, he’s always ten steps ahead of everyone else. The minute he made Uncle Nate my godparent, he knew he was raising a liberal Republican.”

Blaine rubbed his eyebrow, trying to hide his grin. If Colbert had learned anything from his uncle, then it was the ability to run circles around Washington's politicians and get exactly what he wanted. And now he was apparently putting aside any party loyalties because he thought Blaine might be the best shot this country had at getting a competent president back into the office.

“What does your uncle have to say about your idea?”

Colbert smiled sheepishly. “He actually told me to consider you.”

_That_ surprised Blaine even more than Gabriel Colbert sitting in his office in the first place. Colbert's godfather was a legend; he’d done so much for the political climate in Washington that even years later, Blaine still had a small crush on him for his competency alone.

Blaine cleared his throat, rubbed his eyebrow again, then played with a pen on his desk. Colbert grinned at his nervous ticks and stood up. ”Just think about it, okay?”

Blaine’s shoulders slumped in relief at not having to decide anything right now. He smiled up at Colbert, standing up as well. “I will. I’d just like to talk to my husband about it first.”

“Take your time. We've got a few more months before we have to decide anything.”

They shook hands, and after a brief goodbye, Blaine was alone in his office. He stared at the chair that Colbert had occupied, running a hand over his mouth. So many thoughts were swimming through his head right now, and none of them were in any sense of order.

Swiveling his chair around until he could look out of his office window, he let his thoughts wander while he considered Colbert’s words.

* * *

“So he wants to run the campaign for you, even though you’re from two different parties?” Kurt asked him that night over dinner, looping some pasta around his fork before putting it in his mouth.

Blaine nodded, swallowing his bite and dabbing his mouth with his napkin. “He implied that he’d rather chew his own arm off than see the current Republican remain in office. His godfather seems to agree.”

“I’m still shocked that _Nate Fick_ is rooting for you.”

“I _know_!” Blaine exclaimed, taking a sip from his wine. “It’s... I don’t even know. He’s been this grand figure in Washington since the late 2000’s. I always wondered why he never ran for president himself.”

Kurt chewed slowly, obviously thinking about what Blaine had said. He looked contemplative and a little surprised, but overall not very put out. Blaine put his fork down carefully, biting his lip. When Kurt gave him a questioning glance, he admitted, “I don’t know what to do. I mean, we had plans, Kurt, and this was definitely not one of them.”

Kurt swallowed his bite and licked his lips. “Have you talked to Wes and David yet?”

Blaine shook his head. “I wanted to talk to you first. It’s... it’ll affect our lives most of all, if I do this.”

Kurt’s whole face softened at that, and he smiled. “Talk to Wes and David.”

Blaine was grateful that Kurt didn’t seem to see a problem here, but Blaine’s gut was actually churning with worry. Twisting his napkin in his lap, he said, “I’m serious, Kurt. We'll have to sacrifice so many things at once if I do this. _You_ will have to bear a lot too, and there are so many decisions we'd have to consider first, decisions that will affect our future. Not to mention our private lives. It will be so much worse than it is now. Right now nobody gives a crap what we do in our free time, I’m just a senator-”

“You’re no ‘just’ anything,” Kurt interrupted him, looking offended on Blaine’s behalf.

It put a small smile on Blaine’s face. “Be that as it may, but if I do this and get through the primaries, our lives will be under a microscope, Kurt. I don’t want to put you through that, I know how much of a private person you are.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said quietly, his voice effectively stopping whatever Blaine might’ve thought about saying next. He looked into Kurt’s blue eyes, and the love and acceptance shining in them eased the worry a little. “Talk to Wes and David.”

It was permission to go through with it. But while Kurt was obviously on board, this was something Blaine had to decide for himself first.

He sighed, picked up his fork again and resumed eating.

* * *

That night, he couldn’t sleep.

Kurt had drifted off hours ago, breathing quietly next to him. Blaine didn’t want to wake him so he held still, arm buried under his pillow while he stared at their bedroom ceiling. He had no idea if he was looking for answers or just hoping that inspiration might strike him. In any case, he couldn’t get his brain to shut up long enough to get some sleep and he was already dreading the next morning.

“Stop thinking so loud.”

Kurt’s voice was muffled by his pillow and the words sounded scratchy from sleep, but he startled Blaine anyway. He turned his head, and sure enough, Kurt’s eyes were on him, looking befuddled and concerned. Blaine smiled sheepishly, turned the rest of his body and put a hand on Kurt’s hip.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you,” he whispered into the darkness. Kurt’s eyes fell shut and he scrunched his nose up. It was so ridiculously adorable that Blaine couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss the tip carefully.

Kurt’s arm slid over Blaine’s waist under the covers, drawing him close until Blaine’s head was tucked under Kurt’s chin. He could feel Kurt’s steady heartbeat under his cheek, and just like that the tension bled out of him. He felt his muscles relax back into the mattress while he listened to Kurt’s rhythmic breathing. After a while, his thoughts didn’t seem so scary anymore and he felt like he could voice the most important concern that was plaguing him. “What if I’m not good at it?”

Kurt’s breathing didn’t change, didn’t even hitch. The only thing he did was slide his hand from Blaine’s hip to his back, stroking it with gentle fingertips. They breathed together for a while, silence enveloping them like a blanket. Then Kurt murmured, “You’ll be great.”

Blaine’s hand turned into a fist around Kurt’s undershirt. “But what if-”

“Blaine,” Kurt interrupted, pulling back until Blaine looked up and into his face. He looked both determined and affectionate in equal measures. He cupped Blaine’s cheek and whispered, “You’re the most honorable man I know, Blaine Anderson. You’d be a great president.”

Blaine felt his whole face soften, knew that his eyes were probably shining bright with the love he felt for Kurt. He leaned forward and pressed their mouths together in a lingering kiss, whispering, “Thank you,” against Kurt’s slightly parted lips. Kurt’s hand cupped the back of his head and pulled him closer to give him another slow kiss, then gently pushed Blaine’s head back down to settle against Kurt’s chest.

These days, they rarely fell asleep wound around each other like this. But tonight Blaine needed it, and within minutes he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Blaine took Kurt’s advice to heart and called Wes and David into his office. The minute he’d explained the reason for Gabriel Colbert’s visit to them, David threw his hands up and shouted, “Hallelujah! My prayers have been answered!”

To say Blaine was surprised would've been an understatement. That feeling only increased when Wes nodded sagely and added, “I’ve been waiting for you to do something like this. You haven’t stopped frothing at the mouth for months.”

“And you’re kind of stagnant right now,” David added further, making Blaine frown. What the hell did that even _mean_.

As if reading his mind - or interpreting his scowl correctly - David explained, “You’ve been doing good for Ohio’s citizens for many years now, but you’ve outgrown that task. You’re capable of so much more.”

“And frankly,” Wes chimed in, “if the _Republicans_ come knocking on your door now, asking to run your presidential campaign for you, you better not think twice about saying yes to that.”

“Unless Kurt is against it,” David said, hesitating and looking a little dubious. “He isn’t, is he?”

Blaine smiled despite himself. “Quite the opposite, actually. He was the first to ask me why I’m not running for president myself.”

David grinned so wide his face had to hurt. “I knew I loved that man for a reason.”

Blaine mock glared at him, but David’s smile only grew.

“Listen, Blaine,” Wes cut in before it could escalate. “When you first called me to help you run for Ohio Senator, I jumped at the chance because I knew you’d change the world. I wanted to be a part of that. So if you decide that you want to reach for the stars, I’ll be right beside you holding your oxygen tank.”

David eyeballed Wes for a moment, then turned to Blaine. “Weird metaphors aside, I agree with Wes. Where you go, we’ll go. If you want to take a shot at becoming president, you better make room for us in your campaign staff or I’ll call you at all hours of the day weeping until Kurt forces you to take us in just so I’ll stop.”

Blaine was grinning so hard by the end of David’s speech that he couldn’t even get words out. So instead he stood up, rounded his desk and pulled the man out of his seat and into a hug. He held his arm out until Wes got the message and joined them. They all laughed, giddy and high on adrenaline, high on _life_ and the possibilities that had suddenly opened up in front of them. “I love you guys,” Blaine said into Wes’ shoulder, tightening his grip around David’s waist. “And I wouldn’t do this without either of you.”

“That’s settled then,” Wes said, sounding unimpressed but Blaine could still tell he was grinning just as hard as him and David were. When he pulled back and looked into Wes’ face, he was proven right.

“I better let Colbert know before you two go and blabber it out everywhere,” Blaine said, slowly letting go of both men.

David tried to look offended. “As if we’ve ever blabbered anything out! I think I’m hurt, Mr. Anderson.”

Blaine grinned at him but turned somber a moment later. “Seriously, though. Please keep this to yourselves until I have a rough schedule and an idea of what the hell I’m doing here.”

“You have our word,” Wes assured him, giving him a soft smile that he rarely showed anyone outside of his own family. Blaine was touched by it and grinned back reflexively.

“Good,” he nodded, waving his hands at them the next second. “Now get out of here, I’ve got a phone call to make that’ll probably change my life.”

Wes rolled his eyes and David just continued to grin at him, but they did as they were told, leaving Blaine alone in his office to stare at his phone. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a long, torturous second, then picked up the receiver.

“Laura? Can you patch me through to Gabriel Colbert’s office, please?”

* * *

Colbert was delighted. And why wouldn’t he be? He got what he wanted, after all. Blaine was calmer about the whole thing now, thanks to the support of his friends and Kurt, but he still wasn't sure if it was a good idea to let Colbert have a go at his campaign, or if he should try to make it on his own.

Then again, Colbert was just as much of a media darling as his godfather, so maybe Blaine should take all the benefits he could get.

“We should announce your intention to run for president sometime in January or February,” Colbert said after Blaine agreed to let him manage his campaign. “That’ll give us enough time to talk strategy and get our staff in place.”

“I want some of my core staff with me on this,” Blaine insisted immediately. “They’ve been with me all this time and I trust them with my life. They already expressed their interest.”

Colbert nodded. “No problem. Your staff is efficient and dedicated. I’d like to bring a few people from my own staff to the table, though.”

Blaine grinned. “That shouldn’t be a problem either, Mr. Colbert.”

Colbert grinned back but then raised his finger and added, “One thing though. _Please_ start calling me Gabriel. Every time you call me ‘Mr. Colbert’, I’m looking over my shoulder expecting to see my father!”

Blaine nodded, his face turning friendly. “Well, then. I think it’s time that you start calling me Blaine.”

Gabriel nodded, extending his hand with a pleased expression on his face. “You know what, Blaine? I think we’ll work great together.”

* * *

Gabriel had barely left Blaine's office when Laura entered it with a stack of papers in her hand. Studiously not looking at him, she put them in front of him and asked casually, “So. President, huh?”

Blaine's hand froze over the stack of mail she'd put on his desk and stared at her. She tried to suppress a small grin but he knew her well enough by now to see the signs that she was losing the battle. He sighed and waved his hand instead. “Go on. Have at it.”

Her gaze lifted and held his, and there was the smile that had been threatening to escape. “I wasn't going to say anything.”

“For _some_ reason,” he said, feeling an answering smile stretch his lips, “I doubt that.”

Laura scoffed, then rolled her eyes and sank down into the seat in front of his desk. “There's actually just one thing I'd like to say.” She paused. “Well, two things.” 

Blaine raised his eyebrows at her, signaling that he was listening.

“First of all: about damn time you came to your senses and are running for office,” she said holding up one finger.

Blaine couldn't help a snort. Rubbing his thumb over his brow, he asked, “Why is everyone saying that to me when they hear the news?”

“Maybe because it _is_ about damn time?” Laura hedged. “I mean, you've been bitching about President Gordon for _weeks_ , and if we know one thing about you, it's that you don't stand for bullshit of that incredible magnitude. We were just surprised that you didn't think of it yourself.”

Blaine inclined his head. She had a point, after all. He wasn't the nice little senator that toed the company line; he loved to address the issues that made everyone cringe or shift uncomfortably in their seats. It wasn't in his nature to ignore discrimination or stupid decisions.

“As a woman,” Laura continued, smirk melting away into a genuine smile, “I thank you for doing the right thing. I shudder to think what could happen to me and the autonomy over my own body if someone else tried to go up against this stupid asshole.”

“You better hope this office isn't bugged by the Secret Service or you might get arrested for badmouthing the president,” Blaine warned, but he was smiling again.

Laura threw him an unimpressed look. “If I can't even say what I want in the privacy of your office, then the president is even more of an asshole than I previously thought, and let me tell you he was already a pretty big one.”

Blaine held up his hands in defeat. “Okay, okay. He's an asshole. It's not like I don't agree, and believe me, the things I say in the privacy of my home are way worse.”

“So we're all in agreement that he's a dick who needs to vacate the premises ASAP.”

“You've been spending time with your grandpa again, haven't you?” Blaine asked fondly.

“Maybe.” The look on her face spoke volumes.

“Okay, so we've established that you're grateful I'm running for the highest office, and that you think I took my sweet time,” Blaine summed up and ignored Laura's pointedly raised eyebrow. “What was the second thing you wanted to say?”

The light suddenly appearing in Laura's eyes should've scared him, but oddly enough it did the complete opposite. Leaning forward in her seat, she answered, “You better have space on your campaign staff for me or I'm going to kick your ass.”

Blaine was smiling before he even knew he wanted to. A fierce sense of relief and fondness washed over him at her words, and when he leaned forward to answer, he meant every word. “Laura, it never even crossed my mind to leave you behind.”

A tension he hadn't even been aware of bled out of her at his words, and then she grinned. “Good. Glad we established that, boss.”

With that, she stood up, straightened her skirt and jacket, and turned to leave.

“Laura?”

At his gentle exclamation, she stopped and looked over her shoulder. Blaine smiled softly at her. “Thank you for believing in me. I'm glad to have you on my side.”

She looked fond for a second before she nodded briskly. “Glad to be of assistance. And anyway, have you seen your competition? You're a sure thing.”

And with that she left, Blaine's laughter following her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small note before you read this: I know that Finn isn't the best character to do a storyline like this with (you'll see what I mean), but in this universe, he grew up and became somewhat of a decent and honorable man. Finn from Glee may be a douche to some of you, but I do believe he has redeeming qualities, which I'm exploring herein.
> 
> Just wanted to get this off my chest before you read the chapter. Now go and get yourselves a little Christmas cheer ;)
> 
> **Edit - January 18th 2014:** A very kind reader pointed out to me that a State Senator is not allowed to just give up their residency. So I corrected that mistake. Thank you again, _ScribbledInk_.

* * *

A few years ago, not long after they'd decided to get married, Kurt decided to give up his apartment in Lima for good. Both their lives had shifted to Washington, and it was only practical and responsible from a financial aspect to give it up. Later, when Burt died the same year, Blaine was doubly glad that he'd given it up. Just watching Kurt's heart break every time someone so much as mentioned Ohio in that first year had been enough of a deal breaker to make him grateful that they'd made the decision.

Blaine still held his apartment in Columbus, even though he only used it a few months a year when his responsibilities as senator kept him in Ohio. It was just big enough for one person, but most of the time Kurt couldn't come with him anyway, with his job keeping him firmly in Washington. Blaine's heart had always known that his home wasn't a place, but a person. He could deal with a few weeks alone in his apartment in Columbus so long as he knew that as soon as he flew back to Washington, Kurt was there to envelop him in his arms.

The missing apartment only ever became an issue when they traveled back to visit Kurt's family. They never stayed with Carole, not after that first Christmas without Burt, mere weeks after his death. It had been the worst. Kurt hadn't stopped crying for most of the holidays, but then neither had Carole. As well as sorting out the legal necessities, making sure that Carole was fine had been the most prominent reason why they'd stayed with her in the first place. But nobody had been in a festive mood that year, and nobody really treated it as a holiday at all. So instead of exchanging presents, they’d exchanged memories and anecdotes of Burt. It had helped a little. It still hurt like hell, but they’d shared a smile or two during those days.

Last year, the second Christmas without Burt, they flew out to Ohio again to celebrate the holidays with Carole and Finn. But ever since then, they preferred to stay at a hotel in Lima. That year had been a little better for everyone. It still wasn't great, but Kurt only cried once the whole time, in the sanctity of their hotel room, cradled in Blaine's arms. Kurt's cure last year had been to indulge in all the Christmas traditions that he and Burt had ever accumulated over the years, after Kurt’s mother had passed away.

Blaine had no idea how this year’s Christmas would play out. Kurt had been subdued around the date of Burt’s death, but he’d been fine for most of the year. He still missed his dad terribly, that much was obvious. But the crushing sorrow and grief had lifted, and he’d started to remember the good times they had, held on to all the fond memories. It was only around Burt’s birthday, his obit and major holidays that Kurt was ever really sad and quiet these days, and Blaine had no problem with being there for him then and providing a shoulder to cry on.

They arrived late afternoon on Friday, with bags packed for a week long stay. After they'd checked in at the hotel, they drove out to the house. Carole had kept it after Burt's death, but they'd sold the garage so she could pay off the remaining mortgage. Kurt had never expressed it vocally, but Blaine knew that he was glad she didn't give up on the house. There were too many memories Kurt wasn't willing to give up, and whenever Kurt and Carole exchanged a look, Blaine was sure that she wasn't willing to give them up either. 

Carole greeted them at the door, hugging them tight and a little longer than she usually would have, always a little clingy around this time of year. Blaine didn’t mind, and neither did Kurt. When she pulled back, she was a little misty eyed, but then a mischievous smile appeared on her face and she said, “Finn is bringing a girlfriend for dinner.”

Blaine’s eyebrows shot up, and a quick look at Kurt showed him that the surprise was mirrored there.

“He hasn’t brought anyone home since Mary,” Kurt said carefully. Blaine winced instinctively.

Nobody in this house ever talked about Mary. She was public enemy number one in the Hummel-Hudson household, and deservedly so. It had taken years until Blaine had gotten the whole story out of Kurt. When he did, he understood why Kurt had described her as ‘the bitch that had broken Finn’s heart into a million pieces and, after she was done with that, had taken the pieces, crushed them into dust and threw them into the ocean without a backwards glance’.

Blaine knew from Kurt's stories that Finn and Rachel Berry had dated, and that they'd split up after high school had ended. The heartache Finn had gone through back then had been nothing in comparison to what Mary did to him, according to Kurt. Even Rachel, who’d needed quite a few years before she could consider Finn a friend again, had declared passionately that she would ban Mary from ever being allowed to enter a theater in which Rachel Berry was doing a show. Coming from her, that was a rather grave threat.

Then again, it was justified. Even years after getting the whole story, Blaine still felt as if he'd watched an episode on “Days Of Our Lives” or something equally dramatic. Things like that didn't happen in real life, except when they apparently did.

It could have been funny if it weren't so tragic: man meets woman, man falls in love with said woman, and while woman doesn't love man, she marries him anyway, hoping to forget the man she is actually in love with. Blaine supposed it could've been, if not a happy ending, at least a content one. But life had dealt Finn different cards, and instead of letting his wife fall in love with him after a while, his friend and comrade – the man who Mary had actually been in love with – took the first chance he got to start an affair with her.

The affair went on for years, and that more than anything was what destroyed Finn, what gave him commitment issues a mile wide. Blaine had never met Mary, and he was glad for it, because hearing what she'd done to Finn, how she'd manipulated him into thinking that she didn't want a family because of his job, always making it sound as if all their marital problems were his fault, made something sour churn in Blaine's gut. He never truly hated people, but he knew that for her, he could make an exception.

In the end it was debatable if it was the best for everyone involved that Mary got tired of spinning lies to Finn and filed for divorce, sending the papers while Finn was overseas fighting for his country. It'd almost destroyed him. For him, the divorce came out of nowhere, and when he got back and tried to talk to his wife, he found out that she'd moved in with her lover.

Finn had never been the same after that.

So yes, Mary had broken him in a way that left everyone worried he would never recover from it. Carole was still convinced that it was the reason why he’d taken his military career so seriously. After Mary's betrayal, he had nothing left but ashes in his personal life, so he'd tried extra hard to make something of himself in his professional one. He’d never brought anyone home again, not in all the years since Mary had left.

And now that was about to change.

“So what’s the lucky lady’s name?” Blaine asked, hanging up his coat and taking Kurt’s to do the same, earning himself a grateful little smile.

“Sharon,” Carole answered, sounding almost reverent. “I don’t know too much about her, just that Finn has been going out with her for about six months.”

“Six _months_?” Kurt exclaimed in surprise, sharing another look with Blaine. “That’s five and a half months longer than he’s ever dated anyone since Mary.”

“I _know_ ,” Carole said meaningfully, leaning forward. “And he’s _bringing her here_. To meet us!”

Nobody needed to spell out how much of a big deal that was.

“Well,” Kurt started, but then trailed off. Blaine was pretty sure he had no idea how to finish the sentence, so he grabbed Kurt’s hand and pulled him down the hall to the living room.

“I’m sure she’s nice,” he said, just to diffuse the silence.

Carole beamed. “To be honest, I’m already inclined to love her no matter what, because she’s managed to hold on to Finn for so long _and_ be interesting enough that he wants her to meet us.”

Kurt snorted. “We’ll see. Knowing Finn, he’s managed to find himself another Mary.”

* * *

Kurt was wrong. Sharon was _lovely_.

She was in her mid-thirties, almost as tall as Finn with light brown hair and big brown eyes. She smiled shyly at all of them, shaking their hands and greeting them with a warm voice. Blaine only needed to look at Finn once to know that this was for eternity. The last time he’d seen that look on someone's face, it had been Blaine himself while he was staring at Kurt.

Carole took a shine to Sharon immediately, asking her about her whole life story, much to the horror of Finn. He looked a little like he wanted to grab Sharon and flee the house. Kurt threw a smirk at his stepbrother and chimed in with his own questions, obviously acting out some sort of payback that Blaine wasn't privy to.

Sharon didn’t mind in the slightest, seeming to be surprised by the blatant curiosity of Finn’s family. But she answered every question without hesitation, which was how they learned that she was a kindergarten teacher at a school near the base where Finn was stationed. They’d met in the supermarket in town and got to talking when Sharon recognized Finn’s base insignia. A few weeks down the line, after lunches and a lot of phone conversations, they had started dating for real.

“I think we bonded over our crappy ex spouses,” she confessed after a while, giving Finn a sheepish look when he grabbed her hand to squeeze it carefully. Blaine felt Kurt sit up straight next to him at her words, and he threw a questioning look at him. But he just shook his head, which was Kurt-speak for ‘I’ll tell you later’.

Dinner that night was surprisingly less gloomy than Blaine would’ve expected. Then again, he hadn’t factored Sharon in, who was very sensitive about their loss and how much Burt was missed, and didn’t ask questions that might’ve been too personal. Instead, she entertained them with quite a few stories about her kindergarten kids and their adventures, making them all laugh at times.

It was Kurt, in the end, who brought his dad up.

“We used to get the tree two days before Christmas Eve. He always said that it still smelled like the woods then,” he said into the silence that had settled in after they’d finished eating and were drinking coffee. Nobody needed to ask who Kurt was talking about, not even Sharon.

Before anyone could answer him, Kurt continued, “He always said it was a Hummel family tradition. The whole family would get up early and go get the Christmas tree.” He looked around, including Sharon in his gaze, before he ended, “I know we haven't done it for the last several years because of dad, but I’d like to do it again this year. With all of you, if you want.”

Carole smiled, albeit a little wobbly. Finn nodded, putting an arm around Sharon’s shoulder. She was nodding as well, looking deeply touched to be included at all. When Kurt's gaze landed on Blaine, he only leaned forward and gave his husband a kiss. “As if you even need to ask,” he whispered against his lips, which earned him an almost brilliant grin from Kurt.

They said their goodbyes shortly after, citing fatigue from the flight over and wanting to be ready for tomorrow. Carole hugged them both tightly, then let them get into their rental and drive to their hotel.

It was later, when they were curled up around each other in the bed, that Kurt said into Blaine’s chest, “I think she was abused.”

A jolt went through Blaine’s body at the words, even though for a short moment he had no idea what Kurt was talking about. Then he remembered Kurt's reaction to Sharon’s tale about bonding with Finn. “You mean Sharon?” he asked, just to be sure.

He felt Kurt nod against his chest, his hand moving over Blaine’s side to his back. “It was the way she held herself, and the look in her eyes,” Kurt explained. “I’ve seen that look a lot over the years.”

Blaine buried his hand in Kurt’s hair and pressed a lingering kiss to the top of his head. “But she got out.”

Kurt sighed, snuggling closer against Blaine. “Yes. Yes she did. And I’m sure Finn will help her heal the same way she will help him. It’s about time anyway, it’s been ten years since Mary broke him.”

Blaine’s arms tightened reflexively around Kurt, hugging him close. He knew how much Kurt was still hurting for Finn about the whole issue. But then again, if anyone would ever have done to him what Mary had done to Finn, he would’ve been pretty hurt as well.

Blaine sighed, pushing those gloomy thoughts aside. Mary was a thing of the past, and Sharon seemed like a lovely woman.

“I hope they’ll be as happy as we are,” he mumbled into Kurt’s hair. Kurt kissed him under the chin for that, then settled back down against him.

* * *

Hunting for a Christmas tree turned out to be the most fun Blaine had had in a long time. They drove out to a small, privately owned forest and made their way through snow and pine trees to find the perfect one for Carole's living room. Kurt and Blaine held hands while Carole had linked arms with Kurt on his other side. Finn was carrying the axe, his free arm lying over Sharon's shoulder, while he told anecdotes about the time he and Kurt had tried to find a tree that first year after their parents got married.

“Kurt didn't even want to leave the car at first and Burt looked at him like he'd broken his heart,” Carole said, remembering that year with a fond smile and a head shake. “I think that, more than anything, finally got you out of the car.”

Kurt snorted. “I was just mad that he had included you into our tradition so readily without even asking me first.”

Finn was quiet for a beat before he murmured, “You felt like he was excluding you again, weren't you?”

Blaine's grip on Kurt's hand tightened when he saw the brief hurt flit over Kurt's face. But Kurt shook it off and just shrugged. “I got over it when I saw my dad looking at me like that. He knew what I was thinking, and it hurt him that I thought he would do that to me again. That's why I got out of the car in the end.”

“And found the best damn tree in the whole forest,” Finn added with a huge grin.

Carole laughed. “Oh god, please don't remind me of the hike we had to take through that snow bank! I was soaked from head to toe. I still don't know how Kurt managed to stay completely dry, save for his shoes.”

Kurt sniffed, but a smile played around his lips. “That's for you to ponder and for me to know.”

He threw a sly look at Blaine from the corner of his eye, promising him silently to tell him later, and Blaine just had to lean forward and kiss him for that. They broke it off when Finn cooed at them, but before Kurt could untangle himself from Carole to undoubtedly hit him over the head, Sharon endeared herself for life by hip checking Finn so hard that he fell headfirst into a snow drift.

Finn's surprised face was priceless. Carole laughed so hard she had tears in her eyes, and Blaine's own smile was so big his cheeks hurt. Kurt just smirked, but held out a helping hand to his stepbrother, which he took a little dazed. He stared at Sharon, slightly hurt, but she just shook her head and put her hands on her hips. “I warned you, mister. No making fun of your brother.”

Finn pouted at that and only really stopped after Sharon had pulled him down for a kiss. Blaine's heart went out to them at the sight, the two of them totally lost in their own little world for a moment. He saw his emotions reflected in both Carole and Kurt's faces, and he slung an arm around Kurt's waist to pull him closer. That got him a smile before Kurt said, “Okay, guys. Break it up, we've still got to find a tree.”

Half an hour later, they were finally in luck. Finn wielded the axe under Kurt's careful instructions, while Carole, Blaine and Sharon prepared everything for the journey back to the car. They laughed and teased each other on the way back, and it soothed a worry inside of Blaine to see that they could do that now, that they were finally able to enjoy at least a little bit of this festive time.

He knew that Burt would have wanted that for them.

Decorating the tree was just as much fun as their search for the perfect tree had turned out to be. Kurt drifted off into melancholy memories every so often when he held an ornament that reminded him of his dad or his mother. Blaine never pried, but he didn’t need to because Kurt was generous about sharing those memories. It was times like these when Blaine remembered his first meeting with Burt, and the promise he gave him all those years ago: to always be there for Kurt after Burt couldn’t be anymore. He’d honored that promise for two years now, and he had no intention of stopping anytime soon.

While they decorated the tree, they talked about everything and nothing. Sometimes they shared memories of Burt. Other times they talked about Finn’s current job on base as an instructor, or Sharon entertained them with another tale about her kindergarten kids. Later, Carole regaled them with stories from the hospital. At one point they talked about Blaine’s decision to run for president, and the implications for all their lives.

“I think it's a great idea, honey,” Carole said, obviously enthusiastic about Blaine’s decision. “It's about time someone put this country's needs first instead of those of the big companies.”

She smiled at Blaine while spreading tinsel over some tree branches, and Blaine was helpless not to answer it with one of his own.

“I don't know,” Finn said, cutting into Blaine's good mood after Carole's approval. “It'll be hard for you guys. This country isn't as progressive as it could be. Or should be.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Kurt asked, his tone carefully neutral. An alarm went off in Blaine's head when he heard it and he threw a concerned look across the room to gauge Kurt's mood. His mask was in place, impenetrable as always. That couldn't be a good sign.

Finn didn't seem to realize the dangerous path Kurt's mood had taken. Oblivious, he replied, “I'm just concerned, that's all. You'll be walking targets for some nutcases with shotguns bigger than their brains.” He shrugged, then added, “I'm just saying that there'll be quite a few people who won't be pleased if their country is run by a gay president.”

There was a long beat of silence, almost like the calm before the storm. Blaine caught a wince from Sharon, who _had_ caught on to Kurt's shifting mood, and he saw Carole open her mouth, probably to berate her son for his ignorance. But before she could form even one word, Kurt put down his Christmas ornament, pinned Finn with a hard stare and said, “Need I remind you that I've been bullied for most of the time I grew up? So was Blaine, for that matter. Our skin is thicker than it was back then.”

Finn stared at him, finally catching up with Kurt's anger. He opened his mouth to reply, but Kurt held up his hand and, his stare turning even more intense, he added, “I refuse to be intimidated by narrow-minded people who fear what they don’t understand. I refuse to back down so that the average middle-class white male doesn't feel threatened by me and my love for sucking dick. And I refuse to be scared _now_ of all times when Blaine is our best bet to get this country's leadership back on track.”

There was a stunned silence after Kurt's little tirade, but then Carole snorted and tried to hide it behind her hand. It broke the tension, and Blaine couldn’t stop himself any longer. He needed to kiss his husband for his speech, so he did. He ignored Kurt's indignant sputter and dipped him just to make him laugh. He got his wish when he felt Kurt grin against his mouth, his hand cupping the back of Blaine's head to deepen it for a second. Carole's belly laugh pulled them apart after a moment, and when Blaine looked over he caught Finn's suspiciously fond eye roll.

Finn did shut up about the whole thing after that, so Blaine supposed Kurt had been convincing enough.

The rest of the holidays were quiet and a little subdued. They still missed Burt like a limb some days, but this time around it was enough when Blaine pulled Kurt into an embrace or lay his arm around his shoulders to put a small smile back on his face. It also helped to see Finn so obviously in love, and that love being returned. It’d been too many years that the man had remained alone. It was good to see the change in him, to see a light that Blaine personally had never known existed until now, but had obviously been terribly missed by both Kurt and Carole.

They didn’t spend New Year’s in Ohio, but opted out to attend a party at David’s instead. Their whole office staff was present - former colleagues in Kurt’s case - to bid farewell to the old year with copious amounts of alcohol and a worrying number of rubber balloons. When midnight rolled around, everyone raised their voices and glasses in cheerful celebration.

Most of them still had no idea what Blaine was planning come February. Oh, they would catch on soon enough, no doubt about it. But right now, they had no idea. Blaine shared a private, conspiratorial grin with Kurt and pulled him into a long, languid kiss while people around them hollered and hugged each other.

“Happy New Year,” Blaine mumbled against Kurt’s lips, pulling away slightly to look into Kurt’s eyes.

His husband smiled and pecked him on the lips. “Happy New Year to you, too.”

They hugged each other, swaying from side to side while _Auld Lang Syne_ played over David’s stereo, then they kissed some more.

It was said that you should start the new year in the way you wanted it to continue. Well, kissing Kurt until they were both short of breath was definitely a good way to start it. Blaine hoped the rest of the new year would continue to be just as great.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

On February 17th, Blaine announced to the nation that he was planning to run for president in next year's election.

Two weeks later, Finn announced to the family that Sharon was pregnant with his child.

For some odd reason, Blaine was more excited about the latter announcement than the first.

He was at work, looking over the briefing material Gabriel had dropped off that morning, when the intercom beeped. He reached for the phone absentmindedly, mumbling a distracted, “Yeah?” into the receiver.

“Your husband is on the phone and he sounds _very_ anxious to talk to you.”

Laura’s voice was so dry and matter of fact that Blaine’s attention snapped to the conversation immediately. “Is he okay?”

He could practically _hear_ her shrug. “I didn’t ask. I didn’t get a chance, to be honest. He was too excited to tell me anything except that he wanted to talk to you _right away_.”

Blaine hoped nothing had happened. “Patch him through.”

The line clicked, and before Blaine could utter any form of greeting or inquire if Kurt was alright, Kurt started babbling, “Blaine, oh my god, you will never believe what just happened! We’re going to be uncles!”

That effectively took the wind out of his sails. Blaine opened his mouth, closed it when nothing came out, then tried again. “Could you start from the top?” he asked. Well, _begged_ was more accurate.

Kurt didn’t even pause. “Finn just called. Well, he called Carole and she called me immediately. Anyway, the point is that Sharon is two months pregnant and _we’re going to be uncles_!”

A laugh bubbled up in Blaine’s throat at Kurt’s exuberance. He hadn’t heard his husband this animated since... well, to be honest, he couldn’t remember hearing him like this _ever_. It was refreshing, knowing that after all these years Kurt could still surprise him.

“That’s great news,” he concurred. “When did they find out?”

“A week ago,” Kurt replied, finally seeming to settle down. “They wanted to make sure and were waiting for the doctor to confirm it. They had the appointment today and she’s apparently in her ninth week.”

A slow smile bloomed on Blaine’s face when he did the math. “It’s a New Year’s baby, isn’t it.”

Kurt’s clear laugh rang out over the phone. “I guess so. Looks like this year really _is_ turning out to be great.”

“It certainly is.” Blaine’s voice was soft, muted by the sheer joy he was feeling right now. “We have to schedule a few days off around the due date,” he continued after a moment of silence, “Who knows when we’ll get the chance to see the kid when the campaign really picks up.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Kurt sounded relieved, but also confident. He knew Blaine too well by now. “I’m going to talk to my boss this afternoon. Make sure you catch Gabriel and Laura to do the same.”

“I will. See you tonight, Kurt.”

“Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The line clicked, and Kurt was gone. Blaine smiled down at the receiver, hanging it back up slowly. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, the adrenaline kick of the news still coursing through his body.

An uncle. He was going to be an uncle! He never would've thought that day would come. Cooper wasn't exactly known for being the type to start a family. Looked like Finn had that front covered after all.

The grin was on Blaine's face before he could prevent it. Jumping out of his seat, he hurried to the door in search for his PA. He needed to get that schedule amended.

* * *

The next two months were spent putting a campaign staff together and finding a base of operation in Ohio. Blaine didn’t have much to do with the hiring of the staff, leaving it in David and Gabriel’s capable hands. He did take the time to meet each and every one of them though, shaking hands and asking them about their motivation to come and help out in his campaign. 

Blaine would've liked to say he was surprised to see Jordan among the volunteers, but he really wasn't. The moment he entered the headquarters and spotted the familiar blond head, he couldn't help but feel like this had been inevitable. Jordan seemed to agree.

As soon as he spotted Blaine, he sent a bright smile his way that Blaine couldn't help but return. Crossing the room, he held out his hand for Jordan to shake and mused, “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Fancy that,” Jordan replied. “As if I could resist the lure of working in your campaign staff.”

“I thought you were teaching by now,” Blaine admitted, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jordan shrugged, rubbing the back of his head with a sheepish look on his face. “Not right now. I had a bit of a relapse.”

The concern was immediate and settled like a stone in Blaine's gut. “Did you have an episode?” he asked worriedly, tightening his hands into fist so he wouldn't reach out and touch Jordan without permission. “Was it your leg? Did you black out? Should you _be_ in a stressful environment like this if you had a relapse?”

Blaine's fretting seemed to amuse Jordan more than anything. “I'm okay,” he soothed Blaine's concerns. “Really. My knee gave out on me and I needed surgery a few months ago. Tyler helped me through the PT and I'm as good as new. Well, relatively speaking.”

There was still a tight ball of tension in Blaine's gut, but Jordan's words had chipped away at it and he willed himself to relax. He gave Jordan a relieved smile and nodded. “I'm glad to hear that. In any case, I'm happy to have you on board.”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” Jordan assured him. “I had to quit my job when the knee gave out and the doctors told me it would take a while to get back on my feet. Then came the budget cuts, which didn't make it easier for me to find something part time. So I'm kind of directionless right now, and when you announced that you were running for president, I wanted to help out.”

“I'm sorry to hear about your job,” Blaine said. He felt awful for Jordan, even though there was nothing he could do. But the young man had a permanent place in Blaine's heart ever since he'd seen him lying in a hospital bed, a victim of hate and discrimination. Blaine would always feel bad when it came to Jordan and, in a sense, Tyler. Speaking of which.

“Where did you leave your boyfriend?”

Jordan's face split in a mischievous grin and he waved his hand around vaguely. “He's working. Someone has to pay the bills, after all.” The words were accompanied by a wink, so Blaine knew not to take him too seriously.

“I see,” he played along, raising an eyebrow. “So you're indulging in some political activism while your better half is keeping his nose to the grindstone.”

That made Jordan laugh, loud and with his head thrown back. He was still grinning, his eyes twinkling, when he answered, “Something like that. He's coming after his shift at the hospital is over to help out.”

Hearing that bit of information sobered Blaine up immediately. It still humbled him how devoted these two men were to him and his political career. Seeing them volunteer their time and energies for Blaine's presidential campaign while Tyler at least still had a day job to think about, made him feel small and pathetically grateful at the same time.

“Tell him I'm thankful for his time and efforts,” Blaine said, earnest and holding his hand out again.

“I will,” Jordan assured him, grasping Blaine's hand to shake it.

Gabriel took that opportunity to interrupt them and steered Blaine away to a small group of people talking on the other side of the room. While they walked, Gabriel asked nonchalantly, “Old acquaintance?”

Blaine looked briefly over his shoulder back at Jordan, who had already grabbed a file folder with who-knew-what inside and was reading it with a concentrated frown on his face. “One of the reasons why I'm doing this,” he answered Gabriel's question, and when he received a puzzled frown, he patted his arm and added, “I'll tell you some other time. Now, let's meet the rest of the volunteers.”

Blaine soon realized that his staff was comprised of many different age groups, ethnicities and political beliefs. Blaine talked to Democrats and Republicans, a few Green Party advocates, the odd Independent Party activist and quite a few people who were still undeclared. Blaine honestly wouldn't have expected to see as many Republicans present as he did, and how many seemed to want to work voluntarily for a Democratic candidate. Not that he was complaining – this was making a statement in its own right, if nothing else.

It was safe to say that Blaine, though baffled and surprised at first, was actually delighted by the variety of people and beliefs that his campaign staff was comprised of. For the first time since he’d decided to run for president, he had a feeling that he might actually win this thing.

* * *

Between getting the campaign staff started, holding down his job as an elected U.S. Senator, and holding the occasional speech at a fundraiser to get his name out there, Blaine started to become exhausted pretty fast in his quest to please everybody. Kurt staged an intervention when Blaine almost fell asleep at the dinner table, his head heading straight for his chicken à l’orange. That in itself wouldn’t have been such a big deal if they’d been at home. But they were attending a business dinner for one of Kurt’s charity drives, which made the whole thing very uncomfortable and highly embarrassing.

“He’s no use to any of you if he collapses from sheer exhaustion!” Kurt ranted at Gabriel on the phone as soon as they were back home. Blaine was brushing his teeth in the bathroom and paused, ears perking up at Kurt’s authoritative voice. He hadn’t heard that voice in quite some time. More specifically, ever since Kurt had stopped working for him as a PA.

Even though Blaine was dead tired on his feet, he felt a wave of arousal sweep over him at _that_ tone.

“I don’t care, make it happen!” Kurt seethed into the phone, then hung up. A moment later he appeared in the bathroom, grabbing his own toothbrush and joining Blaine in their evening routine.

“I swear to god,” he mumbled around the toothbrush, “if he runs you down before the primaries, I’m going to kick his ass and I don’t care _who_ his godfather is.”

Blaine snorted, almost swallowing the toothpaste. He spit and rinsed, just to be on the safe side, then brushed a light kiss against Kurt’s cheek. “My hero,” he whispered, squeezing Kurt’s hip lightly. He felt the tension seep out of Kurt almost instantly, but he still looked disgruntled while he finished brushing his teeth.

They slid under the sheets a few minutes later, gravitating to each other just like usual. When they’d arranged themselves, Blaine let out a relieved sigh and closed his eyes. He breathed Kurt’s scent in, feeling his limbs grow heavier and his mind fuzzier. He was on the brink of sleep when Kurt’s hand gripped his shirt tightly and whispered, “You still belong to me first and foremost, he better not forget that.” Blaine grinned into Kurt's shoulder and fell asleep.

* * *

Gabriel did let up with his insane schedule after Kurt's scathing tirade, though the briefing packages and recommendations for fundraisers didn’t stop coming. But Blaine had enough time to read those during office hours and occasionally on his way somewhere, so Kurt stopped glaring whenever the phone rang and the caller ID proclaimed it to be Gabriel.

Work picked up for Kurt as well. There were times when they only saw each other when they were both crawling into bed or waking up together, but Kurt loved what he was doing and it was a difficult time, with the government passing one moronic thing after another. People were starting to feel the effects, were starting to lose income and their homes. It infuriated Blaine like nothing else, but he could only do so much as one senator among many.

He still tried his best.

It was on one of those rare evenings when they were both home before dinner that Kurt sat down next to him on the couch and sighed deeply before he raised Blaine’s arm and crawled under it. He nestled his cheek on Blaine’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

Blaine looked down at him, a little bemused, but he kissed Kurt’s brow and started stroking his arm slowly, soothingly. They remained like that for a while, with Blaine reading through a bill proposal and Kurt dozing on his shoulder. The companionable silence was interrupted when Kurt sighed again and stroked Blaine’s thigh absentmindedly.

“You okay?” Blaine asked quietly, hoping to sound open but not prying.

Kurt just shook his head a little. “Nothing. Just a long day.”

Blaine wasn’t quite sure that was all, but Kurt could be worse than a mule if he so chose, so Blaine let it be. Before he could go back to his reading material though, Kurt sat up and turned until he faced Blaine. “I was thinking.”

Blaine let the notes sink down on his lap, giving Kurt his full attention. Kurt looked down at his hand, watching his finger tap an indistinct rhythm on Blaine's thigh. After a long beat of silence, he said quietly, “There was this woman with two kids tonight. They came in just before we closed admittance for the day. They were all so exhausted.”

Blaine couldn't help but cover Kurt's hand with his own, squeezing it. Kurt didn't talk too much about his work, and when he did it was because he needed to get out of his head or talk something through so it would make sense to him.

Kurt threw him a quick smile, there and gone again in the blink of an eye. “The smaller kid was a little girl, maybe four,” he continued. “She was adorable. Shy as hell, had quite a few bruises on her arms and legs. But god, she was adorable.”

There was a wistful look on Kurt's face before he added, “She also had the saddest hazel eyes I've ever seen.”

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand again, not sure what else he could do to make this better for Kurt. Something about that encounter had clearly gotten to him in some way, and he needed someone to listen. Blaine could be that someone, _wanted_ to be that someone for Kurt. So he remained still and gave his husband his complete attention.

“She warmed up to me pretty quickly,” Kurt said, laughing a little. “Even gave me a smile, after a while. I just wanted to hug her so hard and never let her go again. She was...” Kurt blew out a breath, looking up at the ceiling before his gaze found Blaine's. “For some reason I couldn't stop thinking about how much she looked like you, and that your kids - _our_ kids - could look exactly like her.”

Blaine's eyebrows shot up at that admission. But Kurt topped that statement by adding, “I want to have your children, Blaine.”

The shock of the statement, at _this_ very moment, was the only explanation Blaine had for his speechlessness. They had certainly talked about it before, because at one point they both wanted to have a family. But with Blaine planning to run for president, he'd assumed the topic was off the table until further notice. Apparently he'd been wrong about that.

He knew that joking about it was a bad idea, but he couldn't help himself when he answered, “Well. That could raise a couple of problems. First being that you don't have a uterus to conceive my children. For which I'm grateful, because if you had one we'd have problem number two on our hands: I'm not sexually attracted to vaginas.”

It spoke of their years of familiarity that Kurt didn't rip his head off at his less than adequate answer to Kurt's request. All he did was give Blaine a pointed look and a stern, “I'm serious, Blaine. I want to have kids with you. I don't want to wait, I want them now.”

That's what Blaine had been afraid of. He sighed, rubbing an eyebrow and evading Kurt's gaze. “Kurt...” he said quietly, but wasn't sure how to continue and trailed off helplessly.

As if sensing what Blaine's answer would be, Kurt stiffened and slid away on the couch. “You don't want to.”

“Of course I want to!” Blaine said hastily, trying to reach for Kurt's hand, but he pulled it away. Something twisted painfully in Blaine's gut. “Kurt, I promise. I want to have children with you. There's nothing I want to do more. But... not right now.”

“When, then?” Kurt asked, sounding small and a little pissed. “Next year? Next century? We're not getting any younger, Blaine.”

“I know that, don't you think I don't know that?” Now Blaine was getting worked up as well. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and tried to regroup. “Look, I-”

“You know what?” Kurt interrupted him and stood up, not looking at him. “Forget it. This was obviously a bad idea. I'm sorry I brought it up.”

“Kurt...” Blaine started, again trying to grab Kurt's hand, but his husband hurried out of the room without a backwards glance, firmly closing the bathroom door behind himself a few seconds later. Blaine groaned and sank back into the couch, pushing his head back into the cushion and closing his eyes. “Well,” he said into the empty room. “That could've gone better.”

* * *

Dinner was an uncomfortable affair that night. Whenever Blaine tried to steer the topic of conversation back to their earlier dispute about kids, Kurt deflected and pointedly changed the subject. The painful feeling in Blaine's gut only intensified with every passing minute that Kurt refused to talk to him, or at least listen to Blaine's reasonings.

They didn't fight very often, not like this. They had their squabbles over Blaine's inability to put the orange juice back to where he'd found it in the fridge, and Kurt's incredibly weird taste in knickknack that littered their home. They worked well together, and they bickered and snarked at each other sometimes. But they were never mean, never cruel. And if they hurt each other’s feelings, they apologized.

If they fought about important issues, things that affected their life together, they always tried to discuss them rationally. They both weren't prone to loud or even violent fights, and they had waited too long for each other to risk their relationship for some petty fight that could've been resolved with proper communication. But this icy war they had going on right now? They'd never done that before and Blaine _hated_ it with every fiber of his being.

Because they both wanted their relationship to work and thrive and last for the rest of their lives, they had one rule, and they had abided by it religiously over the years: they never went to bed angry with each other. It was a good rule, one that had been hard at times, especially when neither of them wanted to give in. But the rule helped to work through their bullshit sometimes, to evaluate what it was they were fighting over and if it was important enough to jeopardize their relationship. Needless to say, they hadn’t found a topic to fight about that had ever been important enough to split over.

Blaine really hoped that they didn't accidentally stumble over one _now_ of all times; a topic that might jeopardize their future together, even though it was mostly just a miscommunication that Blaine would really like to clear up. So when they readied themselves for bed, Blaine waited until they'd slipped under the sheets and had turned off the lights before he slid over and pulled Kurt's stiff body closer, his back pressed against Blaine's front.

“Will you please listen to me now?” he asked quietly, more plea than question at this point. Kurt didn't relax even an inch, but he nodded without turning around.

Blaine pressed his forehead against the back of Kurt's head, taking a deep breath. “When I asked you if you'd be okay if I run for president,” he finally started, fisting Kurt's t-shirt over his stomach, “I was also asking you if you'd be okay with waiting to start a family with me. I thought you knew that, but obviously I've been wrong, and I'm sorry for that.”

He felt Kurt's body relax slightly, melting into him a little bit. He breathed in Kurt's scent, seeking strength from the familiar smell, before he continued, “I _want_ to have a family with you, Kurt. You _have to_ know that. Whether we adopt kids stuck in the system, or try to find a surrogate mother to have biological kids, I don't care. I just want to have a family with you.”

He swallowed, his throat clicking painfully because it had closed up tightly with worry. But he needed to say this, needed Kurt to understand. “My parents were never around,” he whispered, tightening his arm around Kurt's waist. “You know that. And I always swore to myself that when I had kids of my own, I would be available for them, I would always be there for them no matter what. That nothing would be more important to me than them and their needs.”

Kurt turned, at last. He looked wrecked, but not because he was still angry. If his gaze was anything to go by, it was the complete opposite on the emotional spectrum. Kurt's hand found its way to Blaine's cheek, his thumb rubbing careful circles over the cheekbone. Blaine couldn't help the wobbly smile appearing on his face, closing his eyes in a quick silent thank you before he made himself look at Kurt again.

“I can't be that kind of dad for our children if I run for president. And what if I actually get elected? They would be subjected to the public eye, dissected and stared at like zoo animals. I don't want that for my kids, Kurt. It'll be hard enough with just the two of us. But bringing children into that? Who didn't even ask for it?” He swallowed hard before he added hoarsely, “I can't do that, Kurt.”

“I know, Blaine,” Kurt answered immediately, a soothing note in his words. “I know, and I'm sorry I sprang it on you like that.”

“No, it's fine,” Blaine assured him, grabbing his hand and squeezing it carefully before pressing a lingering kiss against the back of it. “You have every right to ask me for a family, Kurt. If it's that important to you, I'll call Gabriel tomorrow and call the whole thing off.”

“No!” Kurt almost shouted, startling Blaine. Kurt bit his lip and pressed their foreheads together, almost clinging to Blaine's hand at this point. “Don't do that. Don't call it off. You want to do this, and I could never be comfortable with depriving you of something that's so close to your heart.”

“But-”

“No, Blaine,” Kurt interrupted him before he could say more. “I'm sorry that you felt like you needed to give up your dream. That wasn't my intention. I agree that we should've talked more in depth about the consequences of you running for president, but that's as much my fault as it is yours, so don't blame yourself for that. Okay?”

“Okay,” Blaine whispered back, then leaned forward to press a kiss against Kurt's lips. He almost sobbed in relief when Kurt didn't hesitate to press back, to open his mouth and let him in. He cradled Kurt's cheek and deepened the kiss, reveling in Kurt's taste and his scent enveloping him.

They parted eventually, both of them breathing hard. Their foreheads rested against each other again, but now the mood wasn't quite as somber as it'd been before.

“We're going to be parents eventually,” Blaine whispered into the night, pulling Kurt closer until he could feel every heartbeat against his own chest. “I promise, Kurt. If I don't win, we're going to get the process started the very next day, okay?”

“Okay.” His voice sounded suspiciously wet, but when Kurt pressed his face against Blaine's neck, he felt his smile. He couldn't help but smile in return.

“You better get elected, though,” Kurt added after a beat of silence. “I shudder to think what kind of world our kids could grow up in if Gordon gets another four years to ruin our country.”

The laugh bubbled out of him before he could help it. He tightened his grip on Kurt's waist and pressed a kiss against his temple. “I love you so much, Kurt Anderson.”

“I love you too, Blaine Anderson,” Kurt answered immediately, kissing Blaine just under his jaw. “And when you're finished saving the world after your second term as president, we'll adopt twins or a pair of siblings and I will brag to them about how awesome and inspiring their dad is.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Blaine said around his grin, his cheeks almost hurting with how wide it was. He maneuvered them around until Kurt's head rested on his chest before he closed his eyes and, stroking up and down Kurt's back, managed to lull himself to sleep while listening to Kurt breathe.

* * *

Sharon gave birth to a baby girl in September.

As it was with these things, the baby came a little too early so all of Kurt and Blaine’s careful plans of flying out and meeting her the minute she came into the world were shot out of the water. Instead, Kurt flew out by himself and sent picture after picture of her perfect little toes and hands and button nose. Blaine couldn’t stop smiling for two days straight, making his fellow senators look at him indulgently and Laura roll her eyes repeatedly before pushing a stack of important papers into his line of sight.

He flew out on the weekend they’d planned to do it in the first place, arriving in Nashville and driving up to Clarksville where Finn and Sharon currently lived, to meet up with Kurt. As soon as he entered the house, he was introduced to Baby Jane by the proudest father Blaine had ever seen. Finn was practically _glowing_ , he was grinning so hard, barely able to keep his little girl out of his sight for even a second.

“He’s like an overgrown puppy,” Blaine confessed to Kurt under his breath while they watched Finn handle his daughter with a care that seemed effortless.

Kurt’s earlier grin turned a little wistful at Blaine’s words. “He used to be like that before Mary,” he confessed, throwing a quick look at Blaine. “I’m glad he has it back.”

“Me, too,” Blaine whispered, suddenly angry at a woman he’d never even met. This Finn Hudson, who had so obviously been missed terribly by his mother and stepbrother, was a complete novelty to Blaine. He was glad they’d gotten a piece of him back, though.

When Blaine held Jane for the first time, something tightened in his throat and he smiled through his suddenly stinging eyes. “Hey, baby girl,” he whispered, biting his lip when she grabbed his finger in a tight hold. “I’m your Uncle Blaine.”

She didn’t open her eyes, just sighed a little and smacked her lips. Blaine’s grin grew even wider, if that was possible. “I’m going to make sure that you’ll grow up in a safe country, a _good_ country. I promise.”

Her face tightened for a second, then she relaxed back into Blaine’s hold. He could feel her tiny heart fluttering under his hand, highlighting how fragile and _small_ she was. His throat tightened further and he handed her back over to her father, whose whole face softened as soon as she was back in his arms. Blaine spared them another glance before he sank down on the couch where Sharon was sitting, looking a little exhausted but otherwise radiant.

“And how are you?” he asked her, giving her a careful side hug. “I heard the birth wasn’t exactly a cakewalk.”

Sharon laughed, her gaze wandering to Finn and their daughter. “I think Finn took it harder than I did. But we made it.”

“Obviously,” Blaine joked, pulling her into his side. “She’s beautiful,” he whispered into Sharon’s hair. She hid her face against his throat, and her thank you sounded suspiciously wet. He pretended as if nothing was amiss and just held her until she'd calmed down again.

Later that night, when Kurt and Blaine were under the sheets in their hotel room, Blaine confessed, “I wish I wasn’t running so we could get started on that family planning immediately.”

“Don’t say that,” Kurt admonished immediately, his voice gentle yet firm. “You’ll be a great president.”

“I haven’t won yet,” Blaine pointed out, then snorted. “I haven’t even been nominated yet, or made it through the primaries.”

This time it was Kurt who snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll blaze through those with no problems at all, and then you’ll be the Democratic nominee, and after _that_ you're going to win the election next November.”

There was a bout of silence in which Kurt pressed himself closer to Blaine’s body, sighing into his neck when Blaine put his arm around him. “You’ll be a great president, Blaine,” he whispered against Blaine’s chest, his warm breath seeping through the fabric of his undershirt. “And after you’ve done your duty to your country, you and I will start a family and you’ll be a great dad, just like you're going to have been a great president.”

Kurt’s unwavering confidence in his abilities and inner moral compass humbled Blaine every time. He pressed a kiss against the top of Kurt’s head, breathing him in, before he whispered a heartfelt, “I love you,” into his hair.

“I love you, too,” Kurt whispered back, pressing a small kiss against Blaine’s neck. “Now go to sleep.”

And Blaine did, with a laugh still lodged in his throat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was brought to my attention that Blaine "is so very selfish" and that Kurt "always has to sacrifice something" in this 'verse. I'm still pondering over a reply to that, but I'd like to ask you guys if that's true and I somehow accidentally created a selfish asshole without meaning to? Please discuss, I'd like to know your opinion on this.
> 
> On that note: please bear in mind that this story is still being posted, which means you don't know what's still to come. Please remember that before you throw accusations like that around that might only apply to one chapter of the story.
> 
> **WARNING:** I'm putting it in the tags but I wanted to warn additionally. There is a miscarriage mentioned in this chapter, triggered by violent domestic abuse. It is not graphic, but it is mentioned so proceed with caution if that might trigger you. There is also a barrage of verbal slews thrown around in this chapter that disparage Blaine's character.
> 
> Additional note (after that I'm done, I promise): the (downright disgusting) opinions depicted by various characters and activist groups in this chapter are **NOT** my opinions. They serve the purpose of this story.
> 
> U.S. Marines do throw very racist and homophobic slurs around, but that doesn't mean they think them to be true. Brad Colbert does not (at least not in my story). I also have no grudge whatsoever against Alabama or its citizens. Someone had to be the villain for the purpose of this story, and they fit the time frame I needed. Sorry, guys. I promise you'll redeem yourselves.

* * *

As soon as he was back in Washington, Gabriel started to take up Blaine’s time again. He didn’t budge even one inch on the issue of preparing for the upcoming campaign months.

“It will be hard and grueling,” he told Blaine with a serious voice. “People will poke all your weak spots and will question everything you stand for. They will question your eating habits and your sexual preference and they will definitely ask you why in hell you chose to let your campaign be run by a Republican. I want you to be as prepared as you can possibly be.”

That statement was the only explanation Blaine had for the fact that one Wednesday afternoon, he found himself in an empty ballroom with an audience of two, comprised of Gabriel’s father Brad Colbert and his godfather, Nate Fick. Needless to say, Blaine felt like he was facing the inquisition.

Gabriel’s father was tall and imposing, with piercing blue eyes and a ramrod straight posture despite the fact that he was bordering on 60. His hair used to be blond, but it was edging more into white now. In any case, he still sported the crew cut from his military days. Blaine knew of Master Sergeant Brad Colbert, of course. Everyone knew about him, mainly because there had been a series of Rolling Stones articles about the early weeks of OIF, and Colbert was the team leader of the lead vehicle that had housed the reporter traveling with them. He used to be unshakeable under pressure, and he didn't appear to have lost that calm in the years since he'd left the U.S. Marines, if the frank and direct gaze he was piercing Blaine with was anything to go by.

Nate Fick, on the other hand, looked nice and affable in comparison to Gabriel's father, with his more-grey-than-brown hair that was artfully tousled, and the green eyes that reflected a kindness that was rare in this town. You wouldn't have guessed that he was in his mid-fifties and had played the political game of Washington for almost thirty years by now. He was intelligent and sharp, and his wit could be dangerous if he so chose. He may look harmless, but he certainly wasn’t.

Nate Fick had become known the same way Brad Colbert had. He used to be the man's Lieutenant and had been featured in the same Rolling Stone articles. A few years later, after he'd left the Corps behind, he went and wrote a book about his own experience and impressions of the invasion, talking about the disillusionment he'd suffered, and that he'd left the Marines for that very reason. The very same disillusionment had driven him into politics, trying to get his voice heard and his opinions valued. Looking back on his career, he'd certainly achieved that: he had the ear of almost every major political player in this town, and everyone valued his opinion.

And now both men were staring at him: Colbert with a smirk and a certain gleam in his eyes, Fick with a reassuring smile and an affability Blaine never would’ve thought was warranted for someone he’d never met. Blaine tried to remember that Fick had recommended him in the first place, but it didn’t help much.

“So how is this going to work?” he asked them from his perch on the stage, tucked behind a podium which he knew wouldn’t give him any cover if either man decided to let loose on him. Colbert’s smirk widened and he opened his mouth, but Fick beat him to it and said cordially, “Why don’t you tell us about your plans for this country and why people should vote for you?”

Blaine nodded. He could do that. It was what he was best at: passionately talking about his beliefs.

He should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. He’d talked for maybe five minutes before Colbert interrupted him with a pointed, “And how in hell do you want to finance these so-called 'health clinics', which I think are nothing more than petri dishes for breeding amorality and are one of the cornerstones to ensure this country's downfall.”

It was the most sarcastic, rudest question Blaine had ever been faced with. To his immense displeasure, the man also had a point. There was a significant hole in the current budget to finance more health clinics all over the country so that women would have easier access to cancer prevention and general women's health care. He tried not to let Colbert’s prickly demeanor get to him too much, and answered him in a reasonable tone, reciting the facts he'd put together with Gabriel and Wes. Colbert nodded, then fired another question at Blaine that was even ruder but just as important. The man knew what he was doing, that was for sure.

It didn’t take long until Blaine started to get flustered by the constant hostility. He was just starting to think that Colbert was probably a homophobe and a douche bag and didn’t like Blaine on principle, when the man in question suddenly shook his head and declared, “You just lost your voters.”

Blaine blinked, confused and a little hurt. ”I’m sorry?”

Colbert shook his head again, but his gaze had suddenly softened. “I was a Marine for most of my life. I’ve been in combat, and I’ve been shot at with live ammunition, as well as insults from friendlies. You learn a thing or two about blocking it out. Marines will jump on every weakness. You’ll lose their respect within the blink of an eye. If you want to survive this campaign, you have to start growing a thicker skin. The years you’ve worked as a senator? They were child’s play in comparison to what’s waiting for you.”

Blaine stared at him, a little shocked at the sudden turn of events. Up until Colbert had started his volley of insulting questions, Blaine had thought he was well equipped for what was waiting for him out there. Now he had to realize that he was far from ready. He swallowed hard, his gaze moving over to Fick when the man cleared his throat.

“Gabriel believes in you,” Fick said, his voice calm and friendly. “He wouldn’t have approached you if he wasn’t. But he also knew that the crowd, and especially your opponents, would eat you alive if you don't get some form of conditioning in the fine art of dodging insults and verbal slews. That’s why we’re here.”

“Because you’ll never find a better pitcher of insults than a United States Marine,” Colbert said, grinning from ear to ear and making him look ten years younger.

Despite himself, Blaine relaxed when he finally caught on. The man wasn’t a homophobe. He wasn’t here to disparage everything Blaine believed in or had worked for. He was here to help, and that more than anything warmed Blaine’s heart.

“Thank you,” he said to both of them.

Colbert waved it aside, a disgusted little frown on his face. “Stop being so polite. You have to start fighting. Steel your backbone, learn how to fight back. Throw it down with your husband if that helps.”

Just the thought of yelling at Kurt sent a shiver down Blaine’s spine. “I’d rather not,” he hedged, looking between the two men.

Colbert shook his head. “I can see that we’ve got our work cut out for us. How about it, LT?” He locked gazes with Fick. “Wanna take a shot at our hopeful?”

A slow smile suddenly appeared on Fick’s face, stretching his full lips and making his eyes crinkle devilishly. He looked even more handsome like that, and yet something like dread settled in Blaine's gut. He swallowed hard. Maybe it wasn't too late to back out of the race? One look at both men, however, told Blaine that he would lose their respect immediately if he did that, and for some reason he wanted to _impress_ them.

So he straightened up, and steeled himself for the next salve of no doubt insulting questions.

* * *

The conditioning from Colbert and Fick did help, though in a different way than anyone might’ve thought or intended. Blaine grew a thicker skin, but instead of snarking back, he countered each and every verbal slew with facts and intelligence, effectively taking the wind out of their sails. Blaine had always believed that you had to win an argument with rational words, rather than how loud you could scream at your opponent. From Fick’s pleased little grin, Blaine gathered that he agreed with Blaine's assessment. When even Colbert admitted that he was, “okay, for a wine sipping, tree hugging, liberal hippie,” Blaine knew he had what it took to take even the meanest of gossip blogs in stride.

Christmas neared, and with it the new year and the primaries. Gabriel told Blaine to enjoy the holidays before the madness started up with the Iowa caucus. So Blaine took his advice to heart, bundled up Kurt and flew out to Ohio to spend Christmas with Carole, Finn, Sharon and Baby Jane.

Christmas was a little less somber, three years after Burt’s death. They all still missed him terribly, and nobody more than Kurt. But the year before had helped a lot to heal some of the wounds in Kurt's heart, and the new child in the house made up for a lot of that grief as well.

She was a ray of sunshine, at almost four months. She was much more alert now, and she laughed and looked at people. They mostly sat around Carole's living room, looking at the twinkling Christmas tree - acquired the same way as they’d done the year before, including Baby Jane bundled up in a sling over her mother’s chest - and cooed at Jane, playing with her tiny toes and fingers.

When Blaine saw Jane cradled against Kurt's chest on the evening before the 25th, showing her something particularly shiny dangling from the Christmas tree, regret pierced his heart. He hadn't forgotten their fight about kids. If things were different, him and Kurt would already have started the process of adoption, could maybe even have a kid of their own joining them under the tree this Christmas. And while Blaine knew that his reasons were reasonable, he also knew that Kurt deserved to have a family instead of having to wait until Blaine's career was more stable.

He still felt guilty about it, even though in the end, Kurt had agreed that right now might not be a good time to start a family. It was that guilt that made it impossible for Blaine to fall asleep when they got back to their hotel that night. The picture of Jane in Kurt's arms, of his husband's delighted face whenever Jane had tried to grab an ornament, were still running through his mind. He sighed quietly and turned, slinging an arm around Kurt's waist to press his forehead against Kurt's shoulder blade. He was hoping that Kurt's scent and his steady breathing would help Blaine get out of his head.

It didn't.

Blaine was this close to giving up and just slide out of bed to find something to read when Kurt's hand suddenly covered his and he mumbled a sleepy, “What's on your mind?”

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Blaine said in a low tone, hooking his chin over Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt made an indistinct sound, then shrugged repeatedly to jostle Blaine's head. “Spill,” he demanded.

Blaine had no idea how to broach this subject. He didn't want to trigger another fight, but it was obvious that the whole issue was still heavy on his mind and wasn't going anywhere. So he swallowed his fears, pressed his face against Kurt's shoulder and mumbled, “Are you sure you're okay with us waiting to start a family?”

He knew he'd surprised Kurt with that when he felt him freeze. There was a pause where neither of them moved, then Kurt turned around to face Blaine. He looked confused and not a little surprised. “What brought that on?”

Blaine shrugged lightly. “I saw you with Jane tonight. You looked...” _Radiant. Confident. Perfect._

“Blaine.” Kurt sounded fond, but also concerned. “I saw _you_ with Jane as well. Just because we're both ready to have kids doesn't mean it's the right time.”

“But-”

“No,” Kurt interrupted him before his argument could gain momentum. “We talked about this, Blaine. I was emotional when I sprung the whole thing on you, but seeing you during the last few weeks made me realize how very much the wrong time it is right now. You're stretched thin as it is.”

His hand came up to cup Blaine's cheek, his thumb running gently over Blaine's lips. “I'm okay with waiting until the election is over. If you really have second thoughts about waiting, we can re-negotiate then, okay? But right now, I want you to concentrate on more important things.”

“Like what?” Blaine whispered, suddenly hoarse from the threat of tears that had sneaked up on him. “Nothing's more important to me than you.”

Kurt's face softened even further, and he leaned over to press a gentle kiss against Blaine's lips. “Winning this election, for starters,” Kurt whispered, a grin slowly forming on his face. “Charming the masses. Honestly, it'll be much easier if adoption agencies already know who you are and what your moral compass is. You'll make it easier for us if you run for president.”

“You're a real comedian,” Blaine mumbled, not able to suppress his own grin. He sobered a moment later, staring intently at Kurt. “You're sure?”

Kurt smiled softly and nodded. “I'm sure, Blaine. Go get them.”

“Okay,” he whispered and pulled Kurt into a tight embrace, thanking the stars for giving him this incredible man to be the love of his life. He would make sure that Kurt's trust and love would never be wasted on him.

* * *

During Christmas dinner on the 25th, Finn and Sharon announced they were planning to get married in the summer. Blaine could practically feel the weight lift off of Carole’s shoulders, and Kurt looked just as relieved. It didn't take long to get out the good wine to celebrate the news – with Sharon sticking to orange juice because of Jane – and leaving them all a little tipsy and in a good mood.

Between Kurt and Blaine clearing the air, that particular announcement and the fact that everybody had coped with the absence of Burt fairly well, it was a good Christmas.

* * *

They spent New Year’s Day in their own bed, lazing around kissing and groping and cuddling each other, leaving them both sated and pleasantly exhausted. They knew it would be the last time they could do this type of lazing around together for a while, what with the coming months and Blaine being on the road most of them until the Super Tuesday was over. Even after so many years together, Blaine still felt a spark light up in his chest every time he opened his eyes in the morning and saw Kurt asleep beside him.

He doubted it would ever get old.

* * *

The day after New Year's, Gabriel snatched him up and started to talk strategy. Blaine knew that the caucus in Iowa and the primary in New Hampshire were the most important few weeks of the campaign, that people would get to know him there, would hear his message. It wasn’t unlike running for senator, just on a much larger scale.

Blaine was excited and scared in equal measures.

But as much as Blaine was looking forward to the primaries, he would miss traveling without Kurt by his side. It was the only downside, really, but Kurt had to work, and he wouldn’t be able to help much with the campaign anyway. Laura, Wes and David - and Gabriel of course - would be by Blaine’s side every step of the way, but they weren’t Kurt.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” Kurt soothed him when Blaine voiced his concerns. They were folding their laundry, but Kurt put down the towel he’d just reached for and pulled Blaine into a quick, reassuring kiss. “We can Skype or talk on the phone every night. And I can come out with you sometimes, when my work schedule allows it.”

Blaine smiled at him, looking down at his own mountain of laundry to fold. It was a mundane task, but Blaine certainly didn’t mind. They had divided all their household chores equally, but laundry was one of the few things they did together, simply because they could discuss any and all topics while doing it and it wouldn't turn into a disaster if they got distracted. Blaine still remembered the cooking accident about two weeks after they’d started living together. Kurt had banned him from the kitchen after that, citing that they couldn’t buy a new set of fronts every time Blaine thought Kurt looked sexy in an apron and distracted him so much that the pan caught on fire.

Blaine had to concede the point, so laundry it was. It was definitely much less dangerous.

“I’m going to miss you,” Blaine confessed, looking at Kurt.

Kurt’s whole face softened and he cupped Blaine’s cheek. “I’m going to miss you, too. Just remember that this is important, and you’ll have me for the rest of our lives after all this is said and done.”

It did make Blaine feel better a little, but just to stock up on his Kurt memories, he let the socks he’d been folding drop back into the laundry basket, grabbed Kurt’s hip and pulled him closer. Kurt grinned. “Are you planning something, Senator Anderson?”

Blaine grinned back. “I most certainly am, Mr. Anderson,” he mumbled before he sealed Kurt’s mouth with a kiss and pulled him in the direction of their bed.

* * *

The first two days on the road were hell.

Well, the days itself not so much, but the nights definitely were. Blaine hated coming back to an empty hotel room, slide between cold and empty sheets, and sleep without Kurt’s warm body curled up next to him. He _ached_ for Kurt’s presence, and not just because he’d gotten used to his warmth. He missed his voice and his opinions and the ease with which he could get Blaine out of a funk.

He wasn't even sure why it was so different to the times when he had business to attend in Ohio for weeks at a time. Kurt rarely was with him when that happened, and he was doing fine then. Well, not _fine_ , but he dealt with it in a mature way. This time around? He was disgusted with himself sometimes. Needless to say, he’d been driving Wes and David up the wall with his bad mood.

“You need to snap out of it, sweetheart,” Kurt told him over the phone on the night before the Iowa caucus. He sounded sympathetic but stern, and Blaine felt like he’d been scolded.

He sighed, running his finger over the bedspread. “You’re right,” he conceded, “I know you’re right. I don’t want to be that person, I _hate_ that person. I don't even know what's wrong with me, but not having you here feels _wrong_ somehow. And I won’t see you for another week at least and it’s driving me _nuts_.”

“If I could be there, I would be, you know that,” Kurt answered, sounding apologetic. And now Blaine felt bad for making Kurt feel guilty.

“It’s not your fault, Kurt,” he hurried to tell him. “Seriously, your work is important. I can manage for a few days. I won't like it, but I can deal. It's just that I miss sleeping next to you so much that it keeps me up at night.”

There was a heavy silence on the other end, and it went on for so long that Blaine had to check if they got disconnected. Then Kurt cleared his throat and rasped, “I miss you, too. Just... be awesome and when you’re done charming people in Iowa and New Hampshire, you come back home to me. I’ll be waiting.”

That, more than anything, was what carried Blaine through the Iowa caucus and the personal campaigning in New Hampshire.

Nobody except him was surprised that he did spectacular in both states.

* * *

Blaine had only a small reprieve at home in Washington before he had to get back on the road to Nevada and the Democratic caucus there. It barely gave him time to fulfill his duties as Ohio Senator, and it wasn’t nearly enough time to spend with Kurt.

But this time, it wasn’t quite as awful. He still missed Kurt, no question about it, but he was slowly getting his head into the game. He was anticipating the Democratic debates, butting heads with the other candidates and slowly gaining ground with every won battle. By the time Super Tuesday arrived, Blaine was in his element and had effectively left most of his fellow candidates behind by a few margin points, which didn’t change much after those State’s primaries.

Then came Alabama.

It was a disaster from the very beginning. The first hotel they were supposed to stay at had “lost” their reservations - and how you could lose the reservations for ten odd rooms, Blaine didn’t dare think about - and they had to find another location on the fly. Blaine could tell that Gabriel was pissed, but in true Colbert fashion he gritted his teeth and made do.

After their sleeping arrangements were settled, they found themselves confronted with a barrage of protestors, both in front of their new hotel as well as every single venue where Democratic debates were held. Most of them were general protests, people who were not a fan of the Democratic Party on principle. But a few protesters were deliberately targeting everything Blaine believed in and stood for. Pro-life activists calling him a baby killer, and pacifists who accused him of being just a cog in the war machine - _him_ , of all people - and homophobes screaming that he and Kurt would burn in hell for defiling the sanctity of marriage.

Needless to say, it rattled him in a way very few things ever had.

He’d faced discrimination and hatred his whole life. Hell, he’d been beaten for declaring that he loved men instead of women. He’d been constantly put down and told that his way of living, his way of _believing_ was wrong. But he’d never given in, hadn’t let it get to him and forged ahead with clear eyes and a full heart. He couldn’t lose, and he never had.

But this? This was personal in a way Blaine hadn’t been forced to face for many years now. He was accepted and respected as a U.S. Senator, people listened to him and tried to heed his advice. Blaine wasn’t stupid or naïve, he’d known he would face adversity on the road. But for some reason he hadn’t expected it so soon, long before the DNC or the announcement of any Democratic presidential candidate.

He’d been wrong.

It was really the second to last debate that put him down completely. All of Colbert and Fick’s conditioning didn’t prepare him for the vitriol of the audience. They were supposed to be Democrats, but it was painfully obvious that they hated Blaine’s guts and had already decided on their Democratic candidate. It was disheartening and almost left him in tears.

He should've listened to Gabriel when he told Blaine that Alabama was a red state, that they couldn't do anything there except get frustrated. But he'd been optimistic, and he'd at least wanted to _try_ to talk to the citizens of Alabama, maybe get them to think about his point of view. Now he could see that he'd been sorely mistaken to think they would _ever_ listen to _anything_ he had to say, just on principle alone. It made him feel like a fool and left him defeated in a way nothing had managed to make him feel so far.

Gabriel tried to talk to him on the way back to the hotel, but Blaine just shook his head and looked out of the window, feeling small and worthless in a way he hadn't felt in years. David tried to talk to him as well, joining Gabriel the moment Blaine entered the lobby and trailed after him together. Blaine ignored them both. When Wes appeared out of nowhere and chimed in as well, Blaine stopped abruptly in the middle of the hallway and whirled around. He realized too late and with dawning horror that he was very close to crying outright, the prickling behind his eyes growing worse with every passing second.

It must’ve shown on his face as well because Wes took an alarmed step forward. Blaine raised his hand, trying to breathe through the threat of oncoming tears. “I can’t do this right now, okay?” he said quietly, his throat closing up and making his voice thick and throaty. “At the moment, I just want to call my husband and hear his voice, so if you don’t mind, I’ll go to my room and do just that.”

Silence met his announcement, so Blaine just nodded, turned back around and took the last few steps to his room. As soon as the door had closed, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit speed dial #1. It barely rang two times before Kurt’s gentle voice said, “I was just thinking about you.”

It was too much. He hadn’t told Kurt about the awful time he'd been having in Alabama so far, didn’t want to worry him. But today had been grueling, and it had depleted all of his positive energies. Hearing Kurt’s voice was the last straw. Before he could bite down on it, a dry sob burst out of his throat and he slid down to the floor, cradling the phone to his ear and circling his bent knees with his arm while the tears finally rolled down his cheeks.

“Blaine?”

Kurt sounded alarmed and painfully worried, and Blaine would’ve loved to assure him that he was fine. But he wasn’t, and his throat was closed up tight with tears and anger and so much _sadness_ for the bigotry of mankind that no words came out. He just let out another sob, the tears falling faster now.

Kurt seemed to realize that Blaine wasn’t able to talk, so he picked up the slack and just started telling Blaine about his day, and that their neighbor’s cat had gotten a litter of kittens on their back porch of all places and it had been such a _mess_ , Blaine, _holy crap_. He talked and talked and told Blaine inconsequential things until Blaine felt himself calm down again, hanging on to Kurt’s voice more than his words, letting its cadence soothe him until at last, he could breathe again without his chest hurting.

“Thank you,” he rasped after what seemed like hours later, interrupting Kurt in the middle of his story about how he’d started up a war with their car’s engine. He fell silent immediately, leaving them both in a vacuum of sorts. After a long moment, Kurt asked quietly, “What happened, Blaine?”

Blaine felt new tears well up, but he swallowed them down and shook his head at nobody. “Just a bad day, honey,” he answered, breathing through the pain, “Just a bad day.”

Kurt remained silent for a beat, then breathed, “Okay. You want me to talk some more?”

The tears were back and Blaine covered his eyes with a hand. “Yes, please,” he choked out, swallowing some more to stop his throat from closing up again.

And Kurt - beautiful, perfect, _his_ Kurt - started talking and didn’t stop for almost two hours.

* * *

A knock on his door early the next morning startled Blaine out of his fugue state. He’d made his way to the bed last night eventually, Kurt’s voice still in his ear while he slipped under the sheets. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have at one point because he woke up in the middle of the night and wasn’t able to fall back asleep.

It was five am now, and Blaine had no idea who could be knocking on his door this early. The last debate before the selection process started wouldn't be for another five hours, and they didn’t have to leave for another four.

It had to be David. David or Wes, checking up on him and wanting to make sure that he was okay. Blaine sighed and walked over, running through arguments in his head so he could get rid of his friends as fast as possible. But when he opened the door, it was neither of his friends.

It was Kurt.

He looked like he’d driven all night, though rationally Blaine knew that he never would’ve made it here by car in that short amount of time, even if he’d gotten into the car right after Blaine had fallen asleep. And really, it didn’t matter how Kurt had done it.

Still, Blaine was speechless for a moment, staring at his husband open mouthed, gripping the door tightly. Then his brain finally caught up with what he was seeing, and he pulled Kurt into a tight, crushing hug. He almost face planted into Kurt’s neck, breathing him in and feeling new tears well up, but out of sheer joy this time.

“How did you...” Blaine started, then abandoned the half formed thought and tried, “Why are you...” He trailed off again when Kurt’s arms just _squeezed_ him.

“I called Wes last night and asked him what happened. I couldn’t _not_ come.”

Kurt’s words hit the side of Blaine’s neck, his breath ghosting over Blaine’s ear. Hearing Kurt’s voice so close again, feeling the vibration in his chest against his own - it was a balm to his battered soul.

“I missed you,” he managed to squeeze out of his throat, hugging Kurt tighter. He felt Kurt do the same, and just his mere presence gave Blaine the strength back that had been slowly sucked out of him over the last few days. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now,” Kurt breathed, hugging him harder and teetering him back to earth.

* * *

Kurt came with him to the venue of the last debate, remaining backstage but in line of Blaine’s sight. It bolstered Blaine’s resolve to not be intimidated by the audience. Kurt gave him strength and a purpose. He wouldn’t be cowered by ignorant people.

The debate was shaping up to be just like the one the day before. People accused him of being too liberal, and demanded he take back his firm stance on women's rights over their health care decisions. Blaine got bombarded with arguments from pro-lifers and was told that women should only be allowed to have autonomy over their own health to a certain degree, because clearly they didn't know what they were doing if they got involuntarily pregnant in the first place. The few supporters who had come out didn't even dare pipe up with their own opinions, even though Blaine could see their displeasure at the unbalanced representation of the political climate in Alabama.

Unlike the day before, Blaine didn’t get rattled this time. He’d had four hours of Kurt, of his strength and his rationality, to bolster his depleted reserves. It had helped immensely, and after ten minutes of continued verbal attacks, even the audience caught on to the fact that Blaine wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing him break.

“It’s not my job to be liked by everybody,” Blaine said five minutes before the debate came to a close. “My job, my _duty_ , is to this country. My job is to do what’s best for it, and I believe wholeheartedly that I can do that. I know your minds are already made up and that, in your eyes, I’m not suitable for the job. But if you have even an inkling of doubt about your current candidate, if there is even one issue that we agree on? Give me another chance to prove to you that I am worthy of your vote, regardless of what you think of me as a person, or who I love, or what I believe in.” He paused, looked down into the audience and caught a few speculative looks, then smiled slightly and ended with, “Thank you for coming out today, ladies and gentlemen.”

As soon as he left the stage, there was applause. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it sure as hell was more enthusiastic than it’d been for the past few days _combined_. Kurt was smiling at him, enveloping him in a hug as soon as he was close enough. Blaine fell into it, but his heart was lighter than it’d been that morning. He knew Alabama was lost to him, had always been a long shot at best. It was okay though. He’d made his peace with it, and Kurt had come out to support him the minute he’d thought Blaine needed him.

It was everything Blaine could’ve asked for, and he was fine with it.

* * *

He did lose the Alabama primaries to a fellow candidate, but Blaine didn’t care. Him and Kurt had visited one of the very few women's centers in Alabama to show their support, before they went back to Blaine's hotel room and desecrated it with enthusiastic gay sex.

It was the best and most satisfying retaliation of Blaine’s entire life.

* * *

By the time the primaries in Texas rolled around, it had become pretty obvious that Blaine was the frontrunner for the Democratic presidential nomination. Blaine didn’t dare believe it; he would start believing it when they announced his nomination at the DNC, not a day sooner. Gabriel just rolled his eyes at him.

So did Kurt, for that matter.

Still, with the last primaries out of the way and California being overwhelmingly in his favor, even he couldn’t deny anymore that he had a very good shot at being the presidential nominee for the Democratic Party.

He didn’t let it go to his head and instead fell back into the grind that was Washington, D.C. It was almost soothing to get back to his office, to his responsibilities as U.S. Senator. It was certainly a relief to slide back into bed with Kurt every night and wake up with him every morning. For a while, he didn’t have to do anything except be the person he got used to being for the last twelve years. It was refreshing.

August came and with it the summer recess, as well as Finn and Sharon’s wedding. The DNC was a mere month away, so Blaine and Kurt decided to head from Tennessee up to Ohio after the wedding to unwind and be prepared for the madness that would be the presidential race.

Finn and Sharon’s wedding was nothing opulent; quite the opposite actually. They’d both opted out of big ceremonies with an even bigger guest list, and instead headed down to the courthouse and got married surrounded by their closest family and friends. Jane was sitting in Carole’s lap, watching the whole proceedings with huge eyes, and when her parents said, “I do,” she let out a delighted squeal and made everyone around them laugh.

After the ceremony, they went to a restaurant for a late lunch. Finn and Sharon looked radiant, both of them so obviously happy with their chosen spouse that it was almost palpable in the air. Blaine was glad that Finn had finally found that piece of heaven he’d been looking for so hard, and that Sharon had gotten her piece back as well.

It was in the quiet hours of the evening, when Finn was saying goodbye to his daughter for an evening, “so me and mama can have one night alone to ourselves, baby girl,” when Sharon was sitting next to Kurt and Blaine, watching her husband touch their daughter’s nose, and said wistfully, “I never thought I would have this.”

Blaine froze, not daring to move an inch. Sharon had never talked to them about her past. She must’ve told Finn at one point, but she never opened up about it with the rest of the family. Kurt, who had much more experience with this type of conversations, just cocked his head at her and asked, “Happiness?”

Sharon nodded, a suspicious wetness in her eyes. “I just... I was in such a bad place after my divorce. I never knew _this_ was possible until I met Finn.” She stopped and looked at them, a small smile curving her lips, “Or until I saw you two be together. You’re equals, just as much as Finn and I are.” She swallowed hard, then looked back at her husband and daughter. “I never had that with my ex.”

Kurt looked briefly at Blaine, leaning against his shoulder, then said, “Finn’s not like him.”

Sharon laughed, wet and almost painful sounding. “No, he’s not. He’s _definitely_ nothing like Greg at all.”

There was a moment of silence, as if she was debating with herself what to reveal, but then she straightened her shoulders, looked at them with a wobbly smile and confessed, “I was with Greg for eight years, five of them married. Not once in all that time did I ever feel like I was worth anything. He treated me like his property, to be shown around whenever it suited him. And I didn’t know any better, I’d been with him since my first year of college. I thought that was what love was supposed to be like.”

She blinked, a quiet laugh escaping her throat, and Blaine wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her she didn’t need to say more. This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life, and it shouldn’t be tainted by bad and hurtful memories. But Kurt stopped him by putting a hand on his thigh, squeezing it gently and shaking his head slightly. So Blaine relaxed back into his seat, put his own hand over Kurt’s and squeezed back.

“He killed my first child, did you know that?”

Every last breath of air left Blaine’s lungs at her words, a shiver running down his spine. He couldn’t do more than shake his head, his mouth dry with sheer disbelief that any human being could be so _cruel_.

She nodded. “I was four months pregnant, and until today I can’t recall what I did that day to spark his anger. When I woke up in the hospital, they told me I’d lost the baby. It was only then that I finally found the strength to be honest with myself. I left him that very night.”

“You were brave,” Kurt said, but Sharon shook her head immediately.

“I wasn’t brave, I was stupid to stay with him for as long as I did.”

Kurt grabbed her hands, careful and so, so tender. “Listen to me, Sharon. You were _brave_. No matter what you think, you were brave the minute you left him. There was nothing stupid about you staying with him, you hear me? His anger, his _issues_ are his and his alone. Not yours, and they were not your fault.”

Sharon smiled, wider than Blaine would’ve thought possible under the circumstances, and squeezed Kurt’s hands back. “I know, Kurt. My therapist said the same thing to me. I _do_ know. It’s just hard to remember sometimes.”

“I know.” Kurt’s smile was small and private, and Blaine didn’t need to be a mindreader to know that Kurt had flashed back to his own bullying in high school. Blaine put a hand on his shoulder, smiling when Kurt looked over his shoulder at him. They exchanged a knowing look, a look full of understanding and love, and Kurt relaxed immediately.

“You’re going to be happy with Finn,” Kurt said to Sharon, squeezing her hands again. “He will worship you, and he will love you unconditionally.”

“As will I,” Sharon promised before she pulled Kurt into a tight, heartfelt hug. After she’d hugged Blaine as well, she jumped up from her seat and joined her husband in saying goodbye to their daughter.

Blaine watched them for a moment, his heart going out to these two broken people who had knitted themselves back together with spit and goodwill, and he was overwhelmed by how _proud_ he was of them both. And of Kurt, for being such a compassionate human being.

He leaned over until he could press a kiss against Kurt’s temple before putting an arm over his shoulder. “I’m proud to be your husband.”

Kurt stared at him, a surprised smile on his lips. “Well, the feeling’s entirely mutual,” Kurt replied, pulled on Blaine’s tie and drew him into a slow kiss. Blaine grinned, but cupped the back of Kurt’s head, and held on.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: The characters depicted herein are fictitious. While they carry names of real life people, I based them on the characters from the HBO mini series "Generation Kill", where they were played by actors _Stark Sands_ (Nate Fick) and _Alexander Skarsgård_ (Brad Colbert). The real life Nate Fick IS happily married and a father and probably on his way to become President one day, while (as far as I know) the real life Brad Colbert is married (or at least has a long time girlfriend) but doesn't have any kids. Their mannerisms shown in this fic are based on how they were depicted in the mini series and bear no resemblance whatsoever to the real life people.

* * *

As soon as they were back in Washington after their vacation, the campaign picked up to an almost insane pace. There were speeches, and charity drives, and meetings with important people who Gabriel wanted to coax into declaring their public support for Blaine. He saw quite a bit of Nate Fick during those few weeks before the DNC as well.

Blaine had always liked the man, ever since he first met him during their coaching sessions with Gabriel's father. He didn't really know him at the time, only knew _of_ him, but he'd still admired him a great deal. Nate Fick was an icon in the political world, someone who was known for calling you out on your bullshit if you'd reached the end of his patience.

During those weeks before the DNC, Blaine got to know the man behind the icon and public image. He soon realized that he truly _liked_ Nate Fick, both as a colleague and a person. He was an affable man with a sharp mind and iron clad principles who had a wicked sense of humor and a compassion that humbled even Blaine sometimes.

Fick seemed to relish talking shop with him, always nurturing his habit of thinking outside the box. Apparently he liked that about Blaine, and in return shared some of his hopes and dreams for this country. He soon morphed from casual acquaintance to some sort of personal advisor and, after endless weeks of campaigning, a bit of a friend as well. Blaine valued Fick's opinions, even though he didn’t agree with them all the time. It was refreshing to find someone who loved to debate with him, though, and who encouraged him to disagree so they could try to convince the other that they were right. Needless to say, Blaine had a blast crossing metaphorical swords with Fick.

It was late one night, with the DNC only a few days away, that Blaine sat in a hotel suite with Fick, both of them kicking back after a meeting with the Governor of Nevada, when the topic of presidency came up.

Gabriel had been talking about nominating a vice president for the campaign for several weeks now. The problem was that Blaine didn’t like any of the other Democratic candidates. They were all liberal on the surface, but when it came to the core problems and issues, they all clammed up like an oyster and started beating around the bush. Blaine detested those kind of politicians, had never been a fan of them or had shown much patience for them. Just the thought of having one of these people run as his vice president nominee sent shivers of revulsion down his spine.

And there sat Nate Fick, poster boy of the Republican Party, endorsing a Democratic candidate, and had more in common with Blaine and his beliefs and plans for this country than all his fellow Democratic candidates _combined_. Blaine still wasn’t sure why Fick had endorsed him in the first place, considering that Fick would’ve had much better chances at winning this campaign himself, even against the current president. Hell, _especially_ against the current president.

Blaine was tired, and fed up with Gabriel’s constant nagging, and the question that had been at the back of his mind for _months_ at this point slipped out before he could stop it, “Why did you never run for president yourself?”

Fick looked taken aback for a moment, as if nobody had ever asked him that. It couldn’t be true, Blaine couldn’t be the only person in the world to ponder that question.

Fick paused, obviously thinking carefully about the answer he should give. In the end, he just shrugged and admitted with a self deprecating smile, “I wasn’t brave enough for that.”

Blaine blinked, surprised and a little confused, if he was honest with himself. “But you did so many good things. You basically became a Democrat on paper in the early 2000s because your Party was, pardon my French, ridiculously stupid.”

Fick laughed, an honest sound that came from deep within his chest. He smiled at Blaine and answered, “I learned a lot about stupidity during OIF. Believe me, the games of Washington were child’s play in comparison to that. It wasn’t so much butting heads with people who didn’t agree with me that scared me. Lord knows I did a lot of that during my time with CNAS. No, it wasn’t that at all.”

“What was it, then?” Blaine asked, his voice quiet and respectful. He knew that he was privy to something nobody else had ever been told. Maybe his wife knew, and maybe even Colbert, but nobody else. Fick wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with the information, Blaine was sure.

He was proven right when Fick said, “At the risk of appearing narcissistic, but I have to quote myself for a moment. In my book, I wrote that _'combat command is the loneliest job in the world'_ 1. Leading a country is very similar to that. You're isolated, you can't show anyone weakness or you'll be eaten alive, and people will lose faith in you. You're under constant scrutiny, and you run against walls and are in constant battles with so many people and interest groups, yet you have to appear confident all the time. After I'd left the Corps, for a while I couldn't even stomach the thought of being in charge of my own laundry, let alone lead a whole nation.”

He laughed again, rubbing his neck self consciously. “I got over it eventually, but I found my work more fulfilling than the power games. I just never saw the appeal to butt heads again, and on an even higher scale than I was used to from OIF. Now? I must admit that I regret it a little bit. I may not have the same idealism I had when I became an officer, but I still want to change the world in any way I can. But I guess that ship has sailed. I wouldn't even _want_ to be president at this point. An advisor, maybe. But me being president? No, I can't see that for myself.”

An idea was forming in Blaine's head while he listened to Fick's explanation. It was a crazy, downright mad idea, but it was there nonetheless. Blaine’s gut was telling him it was the right thing to do, and he had always listened to his gut. And didn't Fick just say that he wouldn't be opposed to being an advisor? Well, Blaine could certainly use one of those. Following his impulse, he turned fully until he could look Fick square in the eye, then burst out, “I want you to run as my vice president.”

If his earlier question had thrown Fick for a loop, then his current proposal was hitting him totally out of left field. Fick’s mouth opened, then closed again before he blinked several times, ran a hand over his knee and bit his lip. After a long moment of silence, which Blaine endured patiently, Fick finally answered, “I’m not sure your Party would be very happy with that decision.” He scoffed and shook his head, smiling. “I'm not even sure _mine_ would be.”

Blaine waved the concern away immediately. “I honestly couldn’t care less. They accepted a Republican as my campaign manager, they’ll get over me nominating a Republican as my vice president. And frankly, so will your guys. It's an open secret around Washington that nobody likes or cares about Gordon. And have you seen my fellow candidates? They’re a joke!”

Blaine paused, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down after that small outburst. He smiled sheepishly at Fick, who didn't look offended. No, if anything, he looked thoughtful. It was that more than anything that bolstered Blaine up to continue, “They don’t have the same visions you and I have. They’re politicians first and humanitarians second. We’re the exact opposite, and I believe that’s more important right now.”

He paused, letting the words sink in, before he took another deep breath and ended with, “Please think about it. It would be a great honor to have you by my side as my running mate. I’d be relieved to know that you have my back, because you've believed in me from the very beginning. I trust you, and I trust your judgment.”

Fick looked touched, and honestly baffled to hear Blaine say these things to him. But before Blaine could start to worry that Fick wouldn’t even have to think about the offer to reject it outright, Fick’s jaw tightened and something strong, something _fierce_ appeared in his green eyes. A tiny little grin played around his lips when he offered Blaine his hand and said, “If we’re running together, you should really start calling me Nate.”

Blaine felt light headed for a second, floored and relieved at the same time. Fick - no, _Nate_ \- had said yes. Oh dear Lord, he’d said yes. Blaine had no idea what the Party would say to that, but he’d spoken the truth when he’d told Nate that he didn’t care. He knew, deep down in his very bones, that having Nate Fick as a running mate would make the difference.

So he grabbed the man’s hand and shook it with an exuberant smile on his face. “Welcome aboard, Nate. I’m glad you decided to join us.”

* * *

Nate was proven right: the Party did lose its collective shit. But someone pointed out that it could only benefit Blaine’s efforts to win the presidential election if he had a Republican by his side, who was technically an honorary Democrat already anyway.

Blaine, just as he’d promised, didn’t give a fuck about their worries and stood by his decision.

It was inevitable that the Democrats gave in eventually, especially after Blaine refused to even consider anyone else for the position. Blaine was their best bet, and they knew it. Nate's Party, on the other hand? They started to get scared, and it manifested in the biggest mudslinging ever conducted in the media.

At first it started with mundane accusations that painted Blaine and Nate as Party traitors, playing for the opposite team respectively. That one almost had Kurt in tears he laughed so hard when he read that tidbit in his morning paper. When he calmed down again, he just grinned up at Blaine and said, “Promise me to let me know when you start _batting for his team_ , because I'd really like to see that.”

Blaine snorted into his coffee. “You're horrible. I happen to be happily married to a gorgeous, perfect man and have no intentions to bat for anyone's team except his.”

Kurt's face softened in an instant, love shining in his eyes. Before Blaine could even blink, Kurt had stood up, rounded the breakfast counter and put a hand to the back of Blaine's head to pull him into a deep, surprisingly filthy kiss. “I love you too,” Kurt mumbled against his lips after a moment, both of them breathing a little harder. Blaine smiled up at him, palming Kurt's hips, then pulled him back in for another kiss.

That comparably harmless bit calling Blaine and Nate traitors had only been the beginning, though.

After that, the papers and TV news seemed to explode with new and more creative accusations every day. There wasn't a morning that Blaine didn't wake up and asked himself what ridiculousness would be printed today, or which FOX News anchor would claim something that they must've read in another dimension for it to be true.

Blaine almost spit his coffee over the kitchen table when he opened the newspaper one morning, a week after the piece calling them Party traitors, and the headline asking him if, “FICK AND ANDERSON HAVING SECRET TRYST?”. So now they had advanced from traitors to lovers and adulterers? What the fucking hell was wrong with the press, didn't they have more important things to worry about?

Kurt looked over his shoulder to read what had made Blaine choke, then he raised an eyebrow and snorted. “So not only are you batting for his team now, you're also having secret trysts?”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “You know we don't, Kurt. I seriously want to strangle these journalists. Where do they get this crap from?”

“Outer space?” Kurt quipped. “Just be glad they no longer accuse you of preaching unsafe and irresponsible sex just because you don't oppose abortion.”

“There is that,” Blaine mumbled, but suddenly he had a lap full of Kurt and was kissed enthusiastically. He groaned, surprised and turned on faster than he would've thought possible after a shocking headline like that.

He was squeezing Kurt's ass when Kurt led up and, their lips still grazing each other, mumbled fiercely, “I am the only one you're allowed to have any kind of trysts with.”

”You won't hear me disagree,” Blaine replied throatily before he pulled Kurt back into a kiss that soon ended with them back in the bedroom.

The whole press corps seemed to develop a weird curiosity for their collective sex lives after _that_ particular headline. As if there weren't more important things to think about, like the worrying drop in college applicants due to financial cut backs in student support. Or the fact that four states had voted on banning same sex couples from adopting and gotten through with it. That one hit especially close to home for Blaine and Kurt, and it infuriated Blaine beyond belief that issues like that were swept under the carpet for ridiculous, invented “news”.

They were at a staff lunch when they started to take Nate under fire. They were meeting with a few of their volunteer campaign staff and their polling experts, trying to gear up for the weeks after the DNC. Blaine was deep in conversation when someone suddenly turned up the volume of the TV running in the corner. At first Blaine had no idea what was going on, but he caught on soon enough the longer he listened to the FOX News anchorman. He was asking his audience in a creepily slimy tone how it was possible that a guy and his former CO could still be in contact after all these years, and in fact make them godfather to their own kid to boot, if there wasn't anything more sinister underfoot. In fact, where _was_ Mrs. Colbert?

Everyone who knew Gabriel knew that his parents had been an unconventional couple from the very beginning. They had never been married, for a start; they'd been friends with benefits at best and met up whenever Colbert was stateside on leave. Gabriel had been somewhat of an accident, and they'd decided to give it a go for the child's sake, but had split amicably when Gabriel was three. They were still on friendly terms, but Colbert had switched from active field duty to training new recruits and doing everything for a proper re-integration of veterans. He did all of that so he could get custody for his son, and he'd never regretted that decision. He might've been career military, but his son was more important to him at the time.

According to Nate, them remaining in contact had never been in the cards at first, but for some reason they'd exchanged emails here and there until they'd stroke up somewhat of a weird friendship consisting of sarcastic barbs and political debates. And, outside of military command structure, Nate had been able to nurture that friendship. And why shouldn't they have remained friends, when they were so clearly on the same wave length? When Colbert told Nate that he'd accidentally become a father, Nate had just laughed at him and then offered his assistance if it was ever needed.

Colbert had made him godfather in retaliation.

So, no. Nothing about their friendship or the absence of _Mrs. Colbert_ was sinister or worth the innuendo that FOX News put into their thinly veiled accusation. Everyone who knew how to use a search engine would've been able to find the facts out, and it was insulting and disrespectful to imply anything else.

Blaine was horrified and outraged on both men's behalf. Nate remained surprisingly calm and sipped on his soda while listening to the man on TV, looking as if he didn't have anything more interesting to report than the weather for the coming week. Blaine was confused how he could remain so calm about this obvious slander of their characters. A few of the other attendees were in Blaine's corner. Gabriel just seemed horribly confused why anyone would think this could detain people from voting for them, because the defamation was as transparent as a pane of glass.

Gabriel's father, who had joined them for lunch because he'd been in town, effectively took the wind out of everyone's sails when he turned away from the TV and stared pointedly at his former Lieutenant. “Looks like our homoerotic love affair has finally been uncovered, sir,” he stated drily. “Guess we weren't as stealthy as we'd thought. Though I have to file a complaint. Your blow job skills seem to be severely lacking, because I can't recall any of them. Shame, sir. Didn't the Corps teach you to be excellent at everything?”

There was a long beat of silence, everyone staring at the man with a mix of horror and a little bit of admiration. But then Nate just calmly put down his soda, pinned Colbert with a _Look_ and asked, “Are you accusing me of giving sub-par blow jobs, Sergeant?”

Colbert smirked at him. “If the shoe fits, sir.”

“That is slander of my person, Sergeant.”

“Well, I hear practice makes perfect,” Colbert threw back with a smirk.

Nate smirked back. “Are you offering, Sergeant?”

Blaine could've _sworn_ he heard someone gasp. But before this weird discussion could go on any further, Gabriel cried out, “Oh my god, could you two stop talking about blow jobs, especially in relation to each other?” He was red in the face and clearly mortified, glaring at his father and godfather in turns.

Nate held Colbert's gaze for another few seconds before he smiled impishly and looked over at Gabriel. “Sorry, squirt. Sometimes we just get carried away.”

“Next time, maybe not in front of witnesses who don't get your particular brand of joking?” Gabriel muttered, glaring at his father who ignored him and took a sip from his own soda can.

“We'll try,” Nate promised.

Gabriel nodded, clearly satisfied, and came over to sink down into the seat next to Blaine's. Blaine was still staring at the two men who had just talked – rather comfortably – about blow jobs. Before he could help himself, he leaned over and asked Gabriel quietly, “Are they always like that?”

“No,” Gabriel mumbled. “Usually they're much, _much_ worse.”

Blaine felt his mouth fall open while he stared at Gabriel in disbelief. Gabriel shot him a quick look before he shrugged. “Don't look at me like that. I've been speculating about them for years.”

“You mean they...” Blaine trailed off, not quite sure how to end this sentence. His gaze wandered back to the two men who had gone back to talking with the people sitting close to them.

“Honestly?” Gabriel said, sounding serious all of a sudden. “No, I don't think they ever did anything, but I can't shake the feeling that they always wanted to.”

Blaine looked at Gabriel from the side, at his pensive expression and the slight furrow between his brows. Then his gaze wandered back to the two men, watched Nate deep in conversation with one of the female staffers while Colbert seemed to listen uninterestedly to someone Blaine was pretty sure belonged to the law office staff two floors down. His gaze, Blaine realized with a shock after a moment, was firmly on the back of Nate's head.

“I see what you mean,” he mumbled after a moment, sinking back into his seat. He couldn't help but feel sad for them. He didn't even want to think about how he would feel if he had to forsake his love for Kurt, not being able to show it to the world at large.

Gabriel shot him another look, this one indecipherable to Blaine, before he stood up and squeezed Blaine's shoulder. “Don't worry,” he said, giving him a quick smile, “they've been joking about this for so long that nobody will take them seriously even _if_ they would start anything.”

Blaine opened his mouth to say this wasn't exactly the concern he was having, but closed it after another careful look into Gabriel's face. He smiled at him instead. “At this point, people will think that FOX News has gone off the deep end. Even if they had photographic evidence, the majority of voters would think they'd forged those. Believe me, Nate and your father don't worry me.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said, giving him a small nod before walking away.

* * *

“I think Nate's in love with Gabriel's dad,” Blaine mumbled that night when he slid into bed next to Kurt.

He felt his husband freeze in surprise before he turned and stared at Blaine with huge, disbelieving eyes. “Are you kidding me?”

Blaine shook his head. “You should've seen them today, when that FOX News guy threw dirt at them, hoping something would stick. They were _joking_ about blow jobs.”

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Isn't that what straight men usually do when they're uncomfortable with being accused of being gay?”

Blaine shook his head. “Not Nate, and definitely not Colbert. I don't know, it was just... there seemed to be something there, underneath their sniping.”

Kurt looked thoughtful, inching closer to Blaine until he could wrap an arm around Blaine's waist. “Nate has been married for almost thirty years, Blaine. Do you really think he would've stayed with his wife if he were in love with someone else?”

“If he wanted to have a career in politics?” Blaine asked, feeling sad all of a sudden. “Yeah, I do. It was different times back then, Kurt. You couldn't go into politics without a wife on your arm.”

“What a depressing thought,” Kurt mumbled, pressing a kiss underneath Blaine's chin. “I'm glad I don't have to pretend, that I don't have to hide you.”

“Me, too,” Blaine whispered, pressing a lingering kiss into Kurt's hair before pulling him closer, drifting off in the safe embrace of his husband's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 "One Bullet Away" by Nathaniel Fick, page 243


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

The DNC was loud, mad and the most exciting thing of Blaine’s entire career. He listened to speeches held by better men and women than him, some of them his idols for as long as he could remember. Then Rachel Berry took the stage and talked about his tireless work to stop the war on women and to ensure their autonomy over their bodies remained. She talked about why it was a bad idea to continue hoping that the current government would take responsibility for the same issues, that women were just not important enough to them. Her speech was inspiring, with her a beacon of light on the stage, and she had the audience on their feet by the end.

Blaine lapped up the crowd’s enthusiasm for all the different speakers, reveled in the sheer energy that circulated through the whole hall. And whenever he thought he might get lost in it all, Kurt was there by his side, holding his hand and facing all of this with him. They were in this together, however far it would take them.

It kept Blaine sane.

The first day went by in a blur, and on the second day of the convention, Blaine got officially nominated by the current Senate Majority Leader, Mitchell O’Brien, who’d always been a fervent supporter of Blaine’s.

Then the official nomination started, with each state’s delegates casting their votes for their favored candidate. Blaine wasn’t surprised when Alabama gave their votes unanimously to one of the more conservative candidates.

He was surprised that, other than Alabama, only North Carolina and, of all things, Wyoming, didn’t give him their votes. But it didn’t matter, Blaine had been selected with a staggering majority to be the Party’s presidential candidate.

If Kurt hadn’t held his hand, he probably would’ve fainted.

* * *

“It’s so stupid,” Blaine said that night, wound tight around Kurt’s body in their bed, breathing in his scent and kissing his neck briefly, “I never expected that I’d have to give a speech this soon. I mean, the writing staff will probably try to put something in front of me, but I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t put my own spin on it.”

“You’ll do great,” Kurt mumbled, sounding half asleep already.

Blaine shook him good-naturedly and laughed at Kurt’s disgruntled little sound. “Hey, you have to give a speech too, you know? You’re possibly going to be First Gentleman.”

Kurt hummed. “Already finished. I’ve been prepared for this ever since you decided to run for president.”

Blaine froze in surprise, staring at his husband’s neck in the dark. When his words finally sank in fully, he pressed his smile against Kurt’s hair and mumbled, “Overachiever.”

“Says the one running for President of the United States,” Kurt mumbled back, but pressed his body closer to Blaine’s. He tightened his hold on Kurt’s waist, but he didn’t stop smiling before he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Nate’s speech was beautiful. Blaine knew that most Democrats were still skeptical about him being Blaine’s chosen vice president. But after Nate’s passionate speech about change and how important it was to work together in a time where it was more obvious than ever that allegiances to political parties wasn’t everything, a lot of them came around to Blaine’s way of thinking. Not that Blaine had had any doubts about choosing Nate in the first place, but he was gratified to be proven right.

If Colbert’s - both of them, actually - face was anything to go by, he was quite impressed as well.

And then it was Kurt’s turn, and suddenly Blaine had forgotten what words even were. Kurt looked _beautiful_ up on that stage, poised and regal in a way Blaine probably never would. Kurt was composed and outwardly calm, and only Blaine’s long acquaintance with all his tells made him see the nervous twitch of Kurt’s fingers, drumming against his thigh in an irregular pattern.

But as soon as he stood at the podium, he calmed down and, waiting for the crowd to settle, just looked at them with this absolute _surety_ that it took Blaine’s breath away.

He fell in love with him all over again in that moment.

“As some of you might know,” Kurt started, his voice clear and strong, captivating the crowd from the very first second, “my father was House Representative Burt Hummel. He’s no longer with us, but he gave me a piece of advice when I was sixteen that stayed with me until this very day. ‘Kurt,’ he said, ‘Never sell yourself short, like you don't matter. Because you matter.’”

Blaine almost swallowed his tongue. He was pretty sure Burt had said that during their first and only sex talk, which Kurt had still been embarrassed about even twenty years later when he’d told Blaine about it.

“His words stayed with me through every hard day, month, _year_ ,” Kurt’s voice brought Blaine back to the present. He shook his head and stared at Kurt, captivated just like the rest of the audience.

“It helped me define who I am and who I wanted to be. It helped me through college, as well as personal and professional disappointments, and through a lot of lonely years where I asked myself, ‘When? When will someone finally see that I _matter_?’”

He made a significant pause then, his gaze traveling over the crowd, establishing eye contact with some people in the crowd. Then he smiled, his radiant smile that had made Blaine fall in love with him. “Blaine saw it. The moment we met, I knew that he _saw_ me, and that he appreciated me. To him, I mattered. First as his employee, and later as his partner and husband. And in all my years since I’ve got to know him, I was never let down by his belief in mankind and his inexhaustible faith and compassion for everyone he meets. To him, you matter, and you always will. No matter who you are or who you love, or what you believe in.”

The rest of Kurt’s speech went by in a blur for Blaine. He was sure that Kurt was brilliant, but his emotions had caught up with him when Kurt had told everybody how much faith he had in Blaine. It humbled him to the core, and his love for Kurt had flared up fiercely in his chest. He wasn’t even ashamed by the tears gathered in his eyes, because Kurt deserved them and more from him.

To him, Kurt was beautiful and powerful. And he was _his_.

Thunderous applause finally shook Blaine out of his fugue state. He blinked, and there was Kurt right in front of him, looking flushed and breathing heavily. Blaine didn’t even think before he cupped the back of Kurt’s head and pulled him into a deep kiss, probably flashing quite a few helpers with some tongue. But Blaine didn’t care right now, he only cared about Kurt and the soft sound of surprise in his throat before he _melted_ against Blaine’s body and kissed back equally as enthusiastic.

“I love you,” Blaine breathed against Kurt’s kiss swollen lips when they finally parted, both of them breathing hard now.

Kurt laughed, sounding so carefree and _happy_ that Blaine’s heart skipped a beat in sheer corresponding happiness. “I love you too,” Kurt grinned, then pressed one last, hard kiss against Blaine’s lips before pushing him gently in the direction of the stage. “And now go out there and blow their minds.”

So Blaine went.

The first minute would forever be a big blank space for Blaine afterwards, even years later. He knew he did well, or otherwise people might’ve started booing him off the stage, but he only really settled back into his own body when he came to the part of the speech he’d tweaked himself.

“I know that I haven’t been everyone’s first choice,” he said, pointedly not looking anywhere near the delegates of Alabama, “but that’s exactly what democracy is all about: choice. I promise you, with everything that I am, that I'll make _sure_ everyone will always have a _choice_.”

He made a pause, looking at a few people in the front row seats. He caught the gaze of a young woman holding a rainbow flag and smiling at him when she realized she had his attention. He smiled back reflexively, and the next part came out easily.

“So many of us have been stripped of choice in one way or another. Women had to fight for their right to choose what to do with their own body when it should never have been a debate to begin with. Millions of children’s choice of good and affordable education got taken away when the current government cut the education budget. Veterans forfeited their choice where to live out their lives because our current government thinks it can cut their veteran’s pay.”

Blaine stopped, his jaw clenching. This part was crucial, he knew. So he put every ounce of passion and belief that Kurt had told everyone he possessed into his voice and exclaimed, “I say, _no_. It stops _here_. I will not stand idly by and watch our current government destroy the hard work of _two_ presidents that came before me. They sacrificed too much for ignorance to destroy all the hard work and the foundations they laid out. I will _not_ stand idly by and watch them destroy the future of our children with their ignorance.”

He made another pause and only vaguely registered the applause following his words. He barely waited for it to die down to a manageable level before he continued, “It is not the choice of your government how to live your life, it is _yours_ and yours alone. It is _your_ choice whether or not you keep the child that was conceived during rape. It is _your_ choice whether or not you go to college. And by god, it is _your_ choice whether you vote for someone who deliberately undermines all your choices, or for someone who affirms your right to choose.”

The applause after that was almost deafening. Blaine blinked, sound suddenly rushing back into his mind. He was almost overwhelmed by the immense support and reception he received. He smiled cautiously at the crowd before he wrapped up his speech, waved at them and walked off stage. As soon as he was backstage, Kurt was clinging to him, whispering into his ear how fantastic he’d looked and sounded and Blaine couldn’t do much more than wrap his arms around Kurt’s waist and cling right back.

His heart never stopped beating double time until they left the DNC.

* * *

Two days later, the Secret Service showed up.

Gabriel didn’t even warn him about it beforehand, just shrugged and told him that every presidential candidate had them. Blaine was pissed, to say the least.

“What the hell am I even going to do with them?” he asked, eyeing the two beefy guys standing three steps behind him, alertly looking around.

Gabriel sighed. “You don’t _do_ anything with them, they’re not your kids.” He sighed, rubbing an eyebrow. “I pulled some favors, got some former Recon Marines as your detail that were trained by my dad. He trusts them, so I trust them to keep you alive.”

_That_ made Blaine stop. “What do you mean, ‘keep me alive’. Has anyone threatened my life?”

Gabriel looked at him as if he was stupid, and maybe he was to a degree, because death threats were something completely novel to him. “Blaine, every politician receives death threats at least once in their career, and you’re a pretty controversial guy. You’ve received more than one, but the sources weren’t exactly something that had to be taken seriously.”

“In other words, I now have two lapdogs because you’re scared that some nutcase with a shotgun might have a go at me.”

Gabriel’s face remained firm. “No. Ever since your official nomination as a candidate, it is obligatory to have two Secret Service agents with you. And quite frankly, we really don’t want to take any chances, okay?”

Blaine paused, thinking about Gabriel’s concerns. He wasn’t sure he liked this at all, but just in case he actually won, he should maybe get used to people shadowing him. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Won’t this make me more of a target though?”

Gabriel smiled a little. “No. It makes an attacker think twice if he really wants to risk his own life to get past two former Recon Marines. And trust me, I will make _that_ little fact known to all of Washington.”

Blaine knew that he must look a little dubious, but he’d trusted Gabriel so far, so why stop now?

When he complained to Nate about his two new friends, he just grinned at him and responded, “Now imagine me in your position, with my own service days only a few years behind me, not allowed to carry a weapon even though my situational awareness was probably better than any of these guys’ could've ever been. I think that, more than anything, was my reason to never run for president. I would’ve made the Secret Service cry with my uncooperativeness.”

Blaine wondered how he would cope with it now, almost thirty years later, but didn't dare ask. He didn't want to give Nate any doubts about running with him. Blaine might actually cry if Nate remembered that little fact and opted out at the last minute, leaving Blaine to face the storm alone.

When he told Kurt about his new entourage, he just raised an eyebrow at Blaine and said, “I’d rather have you well protected and alive than you getting your way and be dead.” Then he pulled him into a quick kiss and went back to work.

Blaine gave up his complaints after that.

* * *

It was surprisingly easy to get used to his new bodyguards. They only really ever went to official gatherings with him and when he had to travel for the campaign, so Blaine had still some sense of privacy after hours. In between campaigning, he started wrapping things up at the office by giving up chairman duties and handing over some bill proposals that were still stuck in House debate to other, trusted senators. Even if Blaine didn’t win, his time as a U.S. Senator was coming to an end. He hadn’t campaigned in his state and he wouldn’t be on anyone’s ballot, so nobody would be able to vote for him even if they wanted to.

Blaine had contingency plans in place in case he didn’t win the presidential election, but he was too much of an optimist to put any of them into action just yet. November and Election Day were still several weeks away. He could worry about it when the day had actually arrived and the results came in.

And if he didn't win the election, he still wouldn't lose. Because if that happened, he could make Kurt and his own wishes come true and get them started on their family plans.

* * *

The CPD had announced four debates for the presidential candidates, a year prior to the actual debates. While Blaine was making sure he was giving over a clean and tidy office, others were hashing out the points and arguments for the individual debates on which they would coach him beforehand. Blaine only really started to participate actively when he got wind of what they wanted him to say to the question on veteran care in the domestic policy debate, the first of his three debates.

“What do you mean, you want me to keep silent about it?” Blaine asked, outraged and a little stumped that Gabriel was trying to decide something like that over his head. “I have opinions on that, well researched facts and opinions I’d like to share with the nation and the moron who’s currently running the country!”

“Blaine,” Gabriel started in that patient tone of his. It always drove Blaine up the wall, especially from this youngster who was 15 years Blaine’s junior.

“No. I’m putting my foot down on this. If you don’t want to write arguments for this part of the debate, be my guest. I’ll write my own. But I _will_ talk about it.”

“Why’s it so important to you anyway?” someone else asked.

Blaine glared at the young man, someone from Gabriel’s staff if he wasn’t mistaken. The man looked suitably cowed the moment Blaine’s glare hit him. “Because they’re _people_ , and they’re citizens of this country, and they need a voice. And if I am the only voice they have, then by god I _will be_ that voice, do you understand me?”

He sent another heated look around the room. “All of you?”

There were nods and a mumbled yes here and there. Blaine nodded before he leaned back into his seat and waved his hand. “Good, now on to the next point: education.”

* * *

There was always a chance that the topics you cared most about were not part of the debate at all. It was why you prepared for all eventualities as meticulously as you could. Blaine didn’t mind; there were so many issues - most of which he’d vocalized in one way or another to the nation already - that he felt passionate about and deemed important. The country knew his position on most of these issues. The debates were just a way to show America how well their prospective president could work under pressure.

Blaine had always been exceptionally good under pressure.

His opponent? Not so much. Blaine was still baffled how Gordon had ever managed to get elected in the first place. Had he really been that much of a moron four years ago? Blaine really couldn’t remember; it’d been the year he got married and Burt died, the year he’d lived for Kurt and the support he needed to give him, _wanted_ to give him. So no, Blaine didn’t remember much about that year, only the one coming after it when it slowly became obvious that the man in the office had no clue what he was doing.

It showed during the debate as well. Blaine wiped the floor with him when it came to the tax increase on middle class families, then went on and talked him into a corner about the cut on the education budget. When Gordon spewed some bullshit about rape being just another form of acceptable contraception, because if God didn't want a life to form he would prevent it, Blaine had to take a deep breath so he wouldn't shout at him. Pictures of women with hollow eyes flittered through his head, women he'd met through Kurt and his tireless work that had broken both their hearts every time. And of course there was Sharon, who'd fought so hard to get her life put back together after living in hell for years.

“Have you ever even _talked_ to an abused woman?” Blaine asked Gordon, his voice carefully neutral. “Have you ever _talked_ to a rape victim? What it does to them? It's not just the physical aspect of such an act, it's the emotional one as well. Forcing them to face such an act of cruelty every day because the life of the unwanted child is more important than theirs would have catastrophic consequences.”

There was an eery quiet in the audience when Blaine took another deep breath. He looked Gordon square in the eye when he asked, “Have you ever met a woman who got pregnant through rape and _listened_ to her? Would you look her in the eye and tell her to her face what you just told me?”

He didn't even wait for his opponent to give an answer before he bombarded him with so many facts about victim blaming, rape culture, suicide rates and child abandonment that even some of Gordon's supporters in the audience looked taken aback and a little shameful.

As soon as the idiot tried to get Blaine with the question about the veteran’s benefits, he couldn’t help it any longer: he smiled. Gordon physically recoiled, but Blaine took the opportunity to rip into him.

“Veteran’s benefits are not about _entitlement_. It’s about caring for people who defended our _rights_. They risked their lives so that _we_ can do and say and be whatever and whoever we want to be. Veterans aren’t bums that we have to carry with our tax money. Veterans are heroes and people who _deserve_ our financial support.

“My brother-in-law has been a member of the U.S. Army for almost 25 years now. He enlisted straight out of high school, and he saw action. He defended my right to be who I am, he defended my right to go and marry his stepbrother. He never asked for anything in return except that we all live our lives the way we choose them to live. To me, he’s a hero.

“My running mate is a former Recon Marine Officer. He went to Iraq in the early 2000s. He went at a time when the objective hadn’t been clear, when everyone started to hate on our soldiers. It wasn’t their fault. They were still heroes, still _are_ heroes. They defended our rights, no matter how muddy the objective was. You really want to go and tell me to my face that either of these men doesn’t deserve our support, our _gratitude_?”

Gordon looked seriously ill by now, but Blaine wasn't finished yet. With a long, strategic look over the audience, he concluded, “They didn’t do it for the fame, they did it because they believed in this country. Still believe in it, the same way I do. Yes, I’ve never been in the military. And trust me, if you could've seen me hold a paintball gun you'll be glad I never was. I’d sooner shoot myself in the foot than hit the target. But just because I never served doesn’t mean I don’t care about the people who did. If they lay their lives down for me, for _all of us_ , even though they don’t know any of us, then I truly, with all my heart, believe that they _deserve_ our support.”

The debates were pretty much over after that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'd like to stress that I'm no expert on American politics, or how it all works. If there are glaring errors, please let me know!

* * *

Election Day dawned grey and cold with a biting wind. Blaine hadn’t slept much the night before, tossing and turning around so much that he went out to the living room after a while so he wouldn’t keep Kurt awake too. But Kurt wouldn’t have been Kurt if he hadn’t come out after him and dragged him back to bed, pulling Blaine to his chest and holding him close, securing him to his body with a tight embrace. It’d helped and Blaine had gotten a few hours before the most important day of his life officially started.

He dressed in one of his better suits, a bespoke charcoal grey Zegna with a three button single breasted jacket (a present from Kurt, technically, even though Rachel had pulled some strings to get it cheaper) and let Kurt choose the shirt and tie because he was too nervous to start color-coordinating.

When they were both dressed to Kurt’s absolute satisfaction, they left their home and made their way to their district’s polling place, but this time with a bigger Secret Service entourage than they’d gotten used to over the last few weeks. The press was already there, as well as some of his colleagues who were living in the same area. Blaine had known that there would probably be a media spectacle when he went to vote, and had briefly toyed with the idea to vote in absentia, but then he'd called himself ridiculous and that he really wasn't _that_ interesting to the press. He was wrong; the turnout was massive. He would’ve thought the actual president might warrant a little more attention than his opponent should. And if Gordon _was_ getting more attention, then Blaine was shuddering in heartfelt sympathy, however reluctant it may be.

The voting itself didn’t take long, neither for him or Kurt. They met up shortly after casting their votes, entwining their hands and smiling politely at the TV cameras and news crews, answering a few generic questions about their breakfast and how they were planning on spending the day until the results came in. Blaine was pretty sure that the press had been briefed weeks ago where the Democrats met up to party, but he told the reporter anyway.

They broke away after a few minutes, waving and smiling at the masses until they’d made their way to the waiting SUV. As soon as the door closed behind them, Blaine let out a nervous breath and closed his eyes. His grip on Kurt’s hand must’ve been painful by that point, so he loosened it and gave his husband an apologetic smile.

“You okay?” Kurt asked anyway, stroking his fingers over the back of Blaine’s hand.

Blaine shrugged, looking out the window briefly and watching Washington’s streets passing him by. They would go back home, grab the bags they'd packed yesterday, and then make their way to the airport to fly out to Columbus to check in with the campaign staff offices before going for a late lunch, probably more of an early dinner. There were still a few obligations Blaine had to take care of in his capacity as Ohio State Senator while he was there, but after that, the only thing left was waiting and watching the news and maybe drinking a few glasses of champagne. But mostly there was waiting on Blaine’s list of things to do today.

“I’m scared,” Blaine admitted after a long silence, whispering it into the world as if afraid someone other than Kurt might hear it and deem him unworthy to be president.

“You’d be a lesser man if you weren’t,” Kurt answered, equally quiet. He sounded so confident, so sure of himself and _Blaine_ , that it soothed his own worries. He threw a thankful smile Kurt’s way and leaned over to give him a quick kiss. But that was all they had time for before the car slowed down and they came to a stop in front of their apartment complex.

The next three hours weren't the most exciting of Blaine's life. They met up with Wes and David and drove to the airport together. Then they waited to check in before flying out to Columbus where a car picked them up and drove them over to the campaign staff offices. Even though he had an apartment in town, their luggage got sent on to the hotel where they would stay for the night and the Democrats had decided to host their election party. Gabriel had been out here in Ohio for the last three weeks, together with his own staff. Nate and his wife were back in Maryland to cast their own votes, and would fly out to Ohio later in the day to meet up with the rest of the staff at the hotel they were all staying in.

As soon as Blaine and Kurt entered the offices, people cheered and greeted them, and the next hour was spent watching the news, talking about life and politics, and Blaine thanking his volunteers whenever they trickled in from their own trip to the polling stations.

When Tyler and Jordan entered the offices, Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand and practically dragged him across the room to greet them. “Hey guys!” he welcomed them with a grin on his face.

Jordan looked a little startled, but Tyler only had a sarcastically raised eyebrow for him. Blaine's grin dimmed to a sheepish smile and he rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry, I'm a little wired right now, and I'm glad to see you.”

“Well,” Jordan started, a grin of his own appearing on his face. “It's always nice to know that you're appreciated, I guess.”

“That, you definitely are,” Blaine assured him immediately before shaking each of their hands. “How've you been since I last saw you?”

“Busy,” Jordan laughed, reaching for Tyler's hand and entwining their fingers.

Tyler rolled his eyes. “Try 'overworked, tired and over-caffeinated',” he quipped, squeezing Jordan's hand a little. “I practically had to sit on him and force feed him a salad once in a while or he would've relapsed like a boss.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jordan scoffed, but the gentle shoulder bump told Blaine that Tyler's words weren't too far fetched, and his worry definitely appreciated. He couldn't help but pull Kurt a little closer, just to have the person who knew him best and worried about him as much as Tyler worried about Jordan as close to him as possible. Kurt gave him a fond look, then turned away deliberately and looked at Tyler.

“It's good to see you guys again,” he addressed him, “I was disappointed that I couldn't be with Blaine for most of the campaign, but I hear you've all done an incredible job. I just want to thank you for that.”

“No need to thank us,” Tyler said quietly, looking a little embarrassed. “Seriously, if it weren't for you guys, I'm not sure where Jordan or I would be today.”

“It was the least we could do,” Jordan added, “and I didn't regret it for a minute. Besides, I didn't really have much else to do when the campaigning started. It helped me not to go crazy with boredom.”

“What are you going to do now, though?” Blaine asked, feeling the worry from months ago come back.

But Jordan just shook his head. “I'll be fine,” he assured them. “I just got word the other day that a high school in our district needs a substitute History teacher after their regular one had a hiking accident. I'm going to start in two weeks.”

“That's great news!” Blaine exclaimed, meaning every word. If there was anyone in this world who deserved a break, it was Jordan. “I'm glad everything worked out for you.”

“Me too,” Jordan beamed.

They were interrupted when someone across the room shouted Tyler's name. He waved, then leveled an apologetic look at Blaine and Kurt. “We've got to go. We'll see you later?”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Blaine joked, earning himself an elbow in the side from Kurt. He mock-pouted at his husband, but was ignored in favor of Kurt saying his goodbyes to Tyler and Jordan.

“That was uncalled for,” Blaine said quietly, rubbing his side for good measure.

Kurt just slid his arms around Blaine's waist. “Don't be such a baby,” he joked good-naturedly and pressed a quick kiss to Blaine's chin before they separated and continued their circle around the room.

The whole get together was a relaxed affair, considering how much was at stake here. They had juice and water and donuts that someone had scrounged up at a bakery on the corner two streets over. Everyone was nervous, and it translated in massive amounts of chatter about ridiculous, random things that nobody could recall twenty minutes later but everyone found funny at the time.

Laura found him after the hour as up, holding out a binder filled with papers. “You have to get a move on or you'll be late for your meeting with the board directors.”

“Right,” Blaine mumbled, taking the binder and looking over the crowd to search for Kurt. When he caught his husband's gaze, he nodded in the direction of the door and, after Kurt's quiet affirmation, left the offices with Laura in tow.

“Good thing I'll be busy for a while,” he confessed to her, rubbing an eyebrow. “I wouldn't know what to do with myself otherwise. Probably pace a hole into the carpet.”

“Well, it's not like they're a thing of beauty or anything,” she shrugged, following closely behind. There was a thoughtful silence before she added quietly, “It's a good thing you started early to make sure everything is in order before you leave your position. Not everybody would do that.”

“Guess I'm just special that way,” Blaine grinned and bumped her shoulder, then slid into the backseat of the waiting SUV and made his way to his meeting.

When he came back two hours later, he felt pleasantly exhausted. At least he no longer felt like he would jump out of his skin from nervousness, that was definitely a plus. As soon as he re-entered the campaign offices, he looked for Kurt. He found him deep in conversation with one of the volunteers, a delicate looking woman with grey hair and an air of regality around her. He made his way over to them and brushed his hand over Kurt's shoulder in silent greeting.

“Hey,” Kurt said, looking up to smile at him. “How was the meeting?”

“Let's just say that Carson won't start haunting me anytime soon for ruining his organization,” Blaine replied, absently playing with Kurt's hair. He received a raised eyebrow for that, but before he could apologize or pull away, Kurt leaned into the touch, a private little smile on his face.

“Carson was such an inspiration,” the elderly lady piped up, startling Blaine out of staring at Kurt's pleased face.

“You knew him?”

She just smiled wistfully. “Oh, yes. I was a teacher when his merry band came to town one day. I'd always thought that health classes and proper education on safe sex were important. I was glad to see him offer free courses for our district. It was painfully necessary.”

“He was a good man,” Blaine agreed, feeling the sadness for his old friend, who had been killed in a car accident three years ago, come back. Kurt patted his side sympathetically.

“He'd be proud of you, son,” she said, conviction in her voice. “We all are. It's obvious that our country is long past the old fashioned way of thinking. Three progressive presidents showed us that, even though Mitchell didn't make quite as many groundbreaking changes. But at least he didn't ruin the country.”

“I'll drink to that,” Kurt mumbled, holding up his paper cup of orange juice and clinking it against hers. Blaine leaned down to kiss the top of Kurt's head, then went in search for some juice of his own.

Their late lunch turned into a massive take out order from the Chinese place who’d been the staff's trusted companion over the last few months. It was late afternoon by that point, and Kurt got a call from Carole halfway through his fried egg rice, letting him know that she was getting into her car now and would be with them in approximately two hours. Kurt told her they’d meet her at the hotel before he hung up and let Wes know to inform the hotel staff about her arrival time.

He was still staring down at his phone when Blaine walked over to him and pressed a kiss against his temple. Kurt sighed and leaned against him.

“I wish Finn and Sharon could come out to support you,” he said quietly, pocketing his phone and sliding his arm around Blaine's waist.

Blaine rubbed his hand over Kurt's arm. “It's fine. We knew he'd be stuck in that training exercise. I'm not mad.” He scrunched up his nose a little and added, “Disappointed, maybe. But not mad. It's his job. And I can understand that Sharon doesn't want to travel all the way from Tennessee up here with a toddler in tow.”

“Yeah,” Kurt mumbled and squeezed Blaine's waist briefly, before he sighed one more time and turned enough to kiss the corner of Blaine's mouth. “At least you've still got me.”

“Which is all that I need,” Blaine assured him around his grin, leaning down to give Kurt a proper kiss and reveling in the amused chuckle his words elicited.

The time to head over to the hotel came sooner than he would’ve thought. It was edging into early evening and there were the first few forecasts. The polling places wouldn’t close for another two hours, and that was only on their coast alone. Blaine’s leg hadn’t stopped twitching for the last hour, and he knew he was driving Kurt insane, but he just couldn’t help himself. This. This was what his work of the last two years - no, the last _twelve_ years - came down to. This was it, tonight. No going back, just going forward.

He got distracted from his nerves when they arrived at the hotel and Carole enveloped him in a hug as soon as she saw him.

“I am _so_ proud of you,” she said into his ear, “no matter what happens, you hear me?”

He couldn’t answer her with words, his throat suddenly closed up tight, but he did hug her harder and pressed his face against her shoulder.

“Burt would be proud, too,” she whispered, her voice sounding wet and full of emotions. Not unlike Blaine felt right now. He forced himself to give a verbal thank you, then pressed a quick kiss against her cheek and let her go. As soon as she was free, she turned and pulled Kurt into a hug that was just as tight and emotional as the one with Blaine had been.

Blaine averted his gaze to give them their privacy, and was instantly swept away by the arrival of the rest of the staff from Washington who had followed them out to Ohio. They were exuberant and brought with them such a vibrant energy and positivity that Blaine felt himself smile at them before he even knew it.

He saw Kurt wave at him over the heads of the volunteers, pointing at the elevators and nodding slightly at Carole. Blaine nodded at him, signaling that he’d stay with the staff while Kurt got Carole settled in, then smiled and mouthed a quick _Love you!_ at him before David was suddenly by his side and proclaimed, “Okay, let’s move this to the ballroom!”

Then the waiting _really_ started.

The thing was: everyone around Blaine was partying it up, having a good time and drinking like there was no tomorrow. Blaine couldn’t really drink just yet; it was bad etiquette and was just asking for trouble. So he tried to make do with orange juice, wandered from table to table and had conversations with his staff and volunteers and the few friends he’d invited. He even ended up in a discussion with Nate and Gabriel’s dad - both of whom weren’t drinking either - about the horrendous amounts of money that was spent during the campaigns and that it was high time someone changed the system.

“But nobody who has tried had any luck in doing it so far,” Blaine pointed out, “and really, right now we have so many other issues that have a higher priority.”

“Maybe Nate can make it his pet project,” Colbert said, his grin toothy and wide and very, very scary. Nate just rolled his eyes and punched Colbert’s shoulder. He was a brave, brave man that Blaine admired a great deal. He sure as hell wouldn't be suicidal enough to punch Colbert _anywhere_.

“So your brother-in-law’s a grunt?” Colbert asked, his sole attention suddenly on Blaine.

“Brad,” Nate started, sounding a little exasperated, but Blaine shook his head at him to signal he could do it. Well, he certainly hoped he could, he’d had a lot of practice in the last few months.

“If you mean that he’s a member of the U.S. Army, then yes, sir, he is.”

Colbert raised an eyebrow at him, his blue eyes piercing. Blaine had no idea what he might be looking for, but after a heavy moment of silence, he asked, “You proud of him?”

“Absolutely,” Blaine answered immediately, not even hesitating. He knew that Finn hadn’t gotten out of battle unscathed; he had his fair share of demons to fight. But he also knew that Finn was one of the bravest, most straight forward people he knew. He might not always have been that kind of person, but the army had certainly made him a better one.

But Finn wasn’t the only person he was proud of, and he wanted Colbert to understand that. “I’m proud of every man and woman that's serving our country.”

Colbert rolled his eyes. “No, hear me out,” Blaine said immediately, waving his hand around. “This may sound like patriotic bullshit to you, but I mean every word of it. I will never understand what you guys went through back in Iraq, or in any of the other battles you were in. But I do know that I never would have had the strength and tenacity to go through that. I will always be proud of the men and women who _can_ do that, and I will never dismiss them the way other people do and did in the past.”

Colbert’s skeptical gaze had morphed into something different, something that almost bordered on baffled. Blaine threw a quick look at Nate to check he hadn’t accidentally broken the man, but Nate was grinning into his glass of water as if someone had told him a particularly dirty joke. Blaine was confused for a moment, but then Colbert raised his eyes to the ceiling and turned to face Nate himself. “You had to go and find one of the _sincere_ ones, didn’t you? Jesus Christ, Nate, couldn’t you get yourself some illiterate Republican puppy that spewed out whatever bullshit you fed him? No, you had to go and find one that was sincere and could _think for himself_.”

Nate was outright laughing now, his eyes crinkled up and his smile wide. He wasn’t even fazed by Colbert’s little speech, who - Blaine had to admit it - didn’t look even remotely as put out as his words might’ve indicated. 

“You voted for him anyway,” Nate said after a moment, still grinning at Colbert.

The man just gave him a “No kidding” kind of look. “My Republican heart was weeping the whole time, sir,” he volleyed back with such a dry wit that the laugh was out of Blaine’s mouth before he could help it. Both men’s attention was on him in an instant, and the laugh died in Blaine’s throat faster than it’d bubbled up. But Nate still smiled, and even Colbert seemed amused more than anything.

“Fucking Democrats,” he said, shaking his head. “All bleeding hearts, infecting good, upstanding Republicans with your hippy moto bullshit. Next thing I know we’re going to be Communist central and hold hands while singing ‘Kumba Ya’.”

“Careful, dad,” Gabriel said, suddenly appearing next to their table and startling Blaine terribly. By the looks of it, he was the only one. Nate and Colbert didn’t even seem fazed. Probably that situational awareness thing that Nate had told him about.

“You’re insulting our next president,” Gabriel continued, putting a hand on Blaine’s shoulder and patting it.

Colbert snorted. “Kind of early to crown him the pretty prom queen already, isn’t it?”

Gabriel sent his dad a glare, and Colbert sighed before looking pointedly at Blaine and enunciating very clearly, “I apologize if my poor choice of words insulted you and your sexual preference in any way. Please know that I value you as a person and your political goals, and my opinion of you is in no way overshadowed by any homophobic prejudice on my part.”

Now it was Blaine’s turn to raise an eyebrow at him, but he bit down on his grin and just nodded. “Not that the apology was necessary, because I can still distinguish between trash talk and actual insults, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

Now Colbert actually looked impressed. He threw a quick look at his son, then at Nate, before nodding at Blaine. “Not a fragile flower after all.”

“And on that note,” Kurt suddenly said from behind Blaine and startling him for a second time in just as many minutes, “I’d like to snatch my husband away and deprive you of your object of ridicule.”

Colbert snorted, but gave Kurt an approving nod while Blaine stood up and slung his arm around Kurt’s waist. He nodded at the men at the table and assured them they’d talk more later, then Kurt pulled him away.

“Not that I needed it,” he said when they were out of earshot, “but thank you for the rescue.”

“It wasn’t so much a rescue as an intervention,” Kurt admitted, throwing a grin Blaine’s way. “If I’d have let you go on talking to the guys, nobody would’ve found the courage to interrupt, and you, Blaine Anderson, are a very popular man tonight in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Blaine grinned back, pulling them to a stop so he could give Kurt a quick kiss on the lips. Kurt hummed approvingly, and someone catcalled somewhere in the crowd, making Blaine laugh and pull back to search for the culprit. He wasn't surprised at all when someone from Gabriel's writing staff raised his glass in a toast as soon as Blaine caught his eye. He shook his head at the guy, but grinned at him anyway.

They made another round of the room, with Blaine speaking with his staff from both Washington and Ohio. He talked shop with a fellow senator who had good chances of getting re-elected for another term tonight, then honed in on Laura who was standing in a corner with a tall and handsome guy. She'd changed into a gorgeous, black dress, a red ribbon holding her blond hair together, and the guy next to her looked just as dashing in a black tuxedo.

As soon as she spotted Blaine and Kurt coming their way, she smiled widely and pulled the guy with her. “The man of the hour,” she greeted Blaine as soon as they were in comfortable talking distance.

Blaine only laughed. “We'll see how that goes.” His gaze wandered to the man next to Laura, taking in his curly hair and shy blue eyes. From up close, he looked a little older than Blaine had previously thought, maybe even around the same age as Blaine and Kurt themselves. Reaching out a hand, he introduced himself with, “Hi, I'm Blaine Anderson.”

“I know,” the guy said, slight blush staining his cheeks but grabbing Blaine's hand nonetheless before shaking Kurt's as well. “Laura has been singing your praises for years. I'm Isaac, her honorary uncle of sorts.”

“I've stopped trying to understand Laura's family structure years ago, so I'll take that at face value,” Blaine replied mildly, biting down on his grin.

Isaac just laughed, giving Laura, whose cheeks were flaming red, a fond look. “Well, if it helps, Stiles calls us all 'his lost boys', even though we're the same age.”

“My dad,” Laura chimed in when Kurt gave her a puzzled look. Blaine hadn't known Laura's dad's name either, but he could've guessed whose it was. The name sounded as quirky as the man who'd raised this exceptional woman.

“Could they not come with you tonight?” Kurt asked her, trying to steer the conversation back on track. Laura just shrugged, looking up at Isaac briefly.

“Papa's not really a fan of the big city,” Laura explained, grimacing briefly. “And dad had this whole 'second honeymoon' thing planned. So they're not actually in the country right now. They're backpacking through Spain and Portugal. Papa always wanted to do that.”

“Don't worry,” Isaac assured them with an impish grin before either Blaine or Kurt could say anything, “Laura pestered them endlessly until they did absentee voting before they left.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before Laura's elbow landed smack dab in his stomach, making him grunt. Kurt laughed and Blaine hid his grin behind his hand. “Good to know,” he managed to get out without bursting out laughing as well.

Laura ignored her companion in favor of pinning Blaine with a look. “You know you'll do great tonight, don't you?” she said, suddenly serious. Blaine felt the threat of laughter subside immediately. Kurt grew quiet as well.

“I hope so,” he told her honestly.

That earned him an eye roll, and before he could process what was happening, she had pushed her champagne glass into Isaac's hand and enveloped Blaine in a hug. “You're going to make it,” she whispered in his ear, then gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and stepped back, turning red again while she studiously avoided Blaine's eyes. They'd never been this informal with each other, had never hugged before. Laura wasn't the type of person to give hugs out lightly, so Blaine felt especially honored that she'd done it tonight of all times.

He was also deeply touched by her confidence in him. She'd been an invaluable assistant for the last five years, and he was glad that fate had brought her to his doorstep. “If I win tonight,” he said, meaning every word wholeheartedly, “you're going to be my new head secretary, no matter who they want to hire for me.”

Her gaze snapped up to meet his, and she stared at him open mouthed for a beat, before a wicked grin appeared on her face. “I'll hold you to that,” she promised, taking her glass back and saluting him before downing it in one go.

They talked for a few more minutes before they moved on. A little bit later, Gabriel waved at them from the ballroom doors, signaling them with a small nod to come over. When they arrived at his side, he just said, “This is as good a time as any to retire upstairs to the suite.”

They'd booked a private suite where the family and immediate friends of the presidential candidate would wait out the evening's outcome, away from prying eyes. Blaine just nodded and Gabriel started moving. Blaine chanced another look into the ballroom that was brimming with laughter and lively conversation, but when Kurt tugged on his hand, he followed him without question.

* * *

Waiting while surrounded by a smaller circle of friends and family was both better and worse for his nerves. He didn’t have to make small talk with people he barely knew, but because the people around weren’t strangers, they saw his nervousness immediately. They had a small dinner and talked quietly with each other while the different newscasts ran on three different TVs in the background. Blaine was distracted and tried to follow the conversations happening around him, but it was impossible for him to manage the concentration needed. An hour before the last polling places closed on the East Coast, he started to pace.

Kurt watched him every so often, looking up from whatever conversation he was involved in at the time. Blaine tried to reassure him with a smile, but if Kurt’s skeptically raised eyebrow was any indication, he didn’t buy it for a moment.

Someone pressed a glass of champagne into his hand at one point, and he swallowed it down too fast. He felt the alcohol hit his system hard, and for a moment he had a horrible image in his head of making a spectacle of himself in front of a barrage of reporters with cameras. But then he caught Kurt’s eye and knew, just _knew_ , that Kurt would never let that happen. Blaine was safe, at least from himself. Kurt would make sure of that.

Blaine wished he could lock himself into a room and sing and dance it out. He didn’t have that urge in a long time, having become accustomed to the nervous energy before an important meeting or senate debate. But this was totally in a different league. If there had ever been a time where he needed to at least dance out his nervous energies, it was now.

As if reading his mind, Kurt suddenly looked over at him, his head cocked slightly. Then a knowing glint appeared in his eyes and he stood up, interrupting David mid-sentence and apologizing quickly before making his way over to Blaine.

“Come on,” he said as soon as he was close enough, grabbing Blaine’s elbow and steering him out of the hotel suite and three doors down.

“Where are we going?” Blaine asked, looking briefly back the way they’d come, nodding at the Secret Service detail following them at a respectable distance.

Kurt opened a door with a key card and pulled Blaine inside. “Carole’s room. I saw a sound system in here earlier, when she settled in.”

Blaine couldn’t help it: he gaped at his husband in awe and not a little love. “How did you know?” he breathed, watching Kurt press buttons on the rather impressive stereo.

Kurt looked over his shoulder at him and just grinned. “You forget that I’ve seen you rock out to the B-52s in your office.”

Blaine was still blushing if he so much as thought about that particular afternoon, even though it'd been a long time ago. But it had become their song, in a way. It had been the moment Kurt had fallen hook, line and sinker, according to him.

The ending notes of a Michael Jackson song suddenly blared out of the loud speakers, startling both Blaine and Kurt. They laughed at each other and Kurt lowered the volume before coming back over to Blaine. He pressed the remote into his hand along with a lingering kiss to his lips.

“Just work it out, sweetheart,” Kurt whispered, his eyes soft and understanding. Blaine couldn’t have loved him more in that moment if he’d tried. So he just nodded, leaned in for another kiss and whispered back a heartfelt, “Thank you.”

Kurt patted Blaine's hip and opened the door. “Come back when you feel better. Have fun.”

He shot a last cheeky grin at Blaine, then the door closed and he was alone. He looked down at the remote in his hand, then over at the stereo where an announcer told him that their Michael Jackson marathon was continuing after a short break. Blaine walked over, put the remote down and slipped out of his suit jacket. He loosened his tie and opened the first two buttons of his shirt, and when the first notes of “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’” came over the loudspeakers, Blaine didn’t even hesitate before he cranked up the volume, closed his eyes, and just let himself go.

* * *

He was disheveled, a little hoarse and probably dehydrated when he made his way back to the suite about thirty minutes later, but damn if he wasn’t more relaxed than he’d been before his little rock out session to MJ’s classics. Kurt’s gaze found him the moment Blaine stepped into the suite, and if the tiny grin was anything to go by, Kurt knew as well.

Nate and his wife had come upstairs while Blaine had been gone, and Gabriel had dragged his dad up to the suite as well. As soon as he spotted them, Blaine’s anxiety was back with a vengeance.

He squashed it before it could get any worse and walked over to Kurt who smiled openly at him now. “Better?” he asked when Blaine was close enough that they had a modicum of privacy.

Blaine shrugged and grinned back. “You're a vegetable,” he sang quietly, making Kurt laugh outright and earning themselves a few curious glances.

Then Kurt’s hand wound around Blaine’s tie and pulled him down. “Well, at least I'm _your_ vegetable,” he murmured before giving him a lingering kiss. Blaine hummed, surprised and appreciative, his hand wandering up to Kurt’s neck on its own to hold him in place.

A discreet little cough made them stop, and Blaine pulled back reluctantly, smiling privately at Kurt before straightening up and turning around to face the rest of the room. Most of them were just looking nonplussed, but there was an amused glint in Nate’s eyes and a raised eyebrow from Colbert. The cough had actually come from Wes, who now gestured at the TVs. “The polling stations closed ten minutes ago.”

And just like that, Blaine’s heart slammed heavily in his chest and the panic was back. Before he even knew it, he sank down in the seat next to Kurt, not seeing or hearing anything for a solid five seconds before he tuned back into the conversation that had started up the moment Wes had dropped the news.

“... any reliable forecasts yet?” Gabriel was asking David, who was on the phone with someone. He shook his head and turned, one finger in his ear so he could hear whoever was on the other end of the line.

Blaine’s gaze drifted to the TV where some perky anchorwoman was talking. The TV was on mute so Blaine couldn’t be sure, but the helpful graphic behind her gave him a pretty good idea that she was talking about the breakdown of votes in the states on the East coast. Blaine knew there wouldn’t be anything noteworthy to report for quite a while, but that didn’t help soothe his nervous energy at all.

Kurt’s hand sliding into his distracted him from the TV. He turned his head to look at his husband questioningly, but Kurt didn’t look at him. He was watching David pace while he leaned over and whispered, “No matter what happens, you’ll always be my hero.”

For a second Blaine couldn’t breathe. He squeezed Kurt’s hand involuntarily, and when Kurt finally turned his head, he smiled so brilliantly at him that his cheeks hurt. Kurt looked startled, but pleased, and grinned back.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Kurt Anderson,” Blaine breathed and leaned in until he could kiss Kurt’s cheek. “The feeling is entirely mutual, by the way,” he murmured into Kurt’s ear and was delighted when Kurt shivered a little.

“Do you two ever stop?”

Colbert’s dry question was like a bucket of ice water. Blaine straightened up so fast that he was surprised he didn’t sprain something. But when he looked at Colbert, his own son _and_ Nate were throwing him some seriously poisonous glares. Blaine couldn’t help the snort that broke out of him, and he raised a brow at Colbert in return. “Jealous?” he asked, just to be contrary. If he’d learned anything about the man in the last months, it was that he appreciated someone who talked back.

The minute the word had left his mouth though, he remembered the short conversation he'd had with Gabriel a few weeks ago, and he felt bad for throwing something like this out there when there was a real chance that Colbert might actually _be_ jealous. The feeling only intensified when something strange lit up in Colbert's eyes, there and gone again before the by now familiar mask of lazy disdain settled on his face. Then, without looking at Nate or Gabriel, he rolled his eyes and snapped, “Stop glaring at me. Anderson knows how to take my barbs.”

Colbert's gaze moved over to Nate, and if Blaine hadn't watched for it, he might have missed the short tightening of Colbert's mouth before a wry grin appeared on his face. “I’m actually surprised you don’t know that,” he said quietly, a teasing tone in his voice while he addressed Nate. “Did you forget how to trash talk, sir?”

Now it was Nate’s turn to snort. “Hardly,” he answered, sounding as dry as the desert. “I just fail to see the amusement factor in your little barb just now.”

“That’s because there wasn’t any,” Colbert countered. “It was a legitimate question.”

For a second, Nate looked stumped at Colbert's words, and then his eyes flickered away to his own wife before they settled back on Colbert. Something happened in that moment, something Blaine couldn't really explain, but when Kurt's hand slid into his and he looked at his husband, he knew that he wasn't the only one who could feel it. Kurt gave him a significantly raised eyebrow before nodding slightly at the two men currently locked in a staring contest.

Before the silence could grow any weirder, Blaine cut in, “Actually, we don’t. Life’s too short to be embarrassed by showing your love for someone.”

There was a surprised silence before Colbert nodded at him, a barely visible smile on his lips. “Good reason.”

“It really is,” Gabriel added, sounding a little baffled to agree with his father on something like this. Blaine watched Nate, trying to gauge his reaction to Colbert's answer. But Nate's poker face was in place, and the only thing you could see – the only thing he _let_ anyone see – was the tiny smile curling his lips. It looked indulgent, and not quite as surprised as Colbert's own son had appeared. Blaine wasn't sure if it was because Nate and Colbert had known each other for so long, or because there really _was_ more going on under the surface.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Wes suddenly exclaimed, “They're calling Vermont.”

There was a weird rippling effect going around the room, everyone staring at each other in shock and surprise. They didn't anticipate any results, much less a called state, for another hour. And now they were calling Vermont already? _Too soon, too soon, too soon,_ ran through Blaine's mind while his gaze went to the TVs in unison with everyone else's. Kurt's hand slipped into his and squeezed it tightly, giving Blaine an anchor to the real world without even having to ask. Blaine squeezed back, but his gaze remained glued to the TV. Then, after what seemed like the longest ten seconds of his life, the state turned blue.

They all jumped up in surprise and jubilation, with Gabriel letting out a whoop of joy and Carole pressing her hand to her heart while smiling so hard her cheeks must've hurt. Blaine was grinning and shaking his head, not believing this. Rationally he knew that Vermont had been a sure state from the beginning, and that the election had not been decided just yet, but having won the first state was like a breath of fresh air after months of stuffy meeting rooms.

“You're going to make it,” Kurt whispered into his ear, slipping his arm around Blaine's waist and pulling him closer until he could press a kiss against Blaine's temple. “I can feel it, Blaine.”

Blaine looked at him, at the conviction in Kurt's eyes. And in that moment, Blaine believed him with all his heart.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning: there's the beginning of a panic attack described in this chapter, so read with caution if that might trigger you. There's also a mild (very, _very_ mild) hint of D/s elements.
> 
> Yes, this is the chapter that earned this story its Explicit rating. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

By the time the first polling places in the Mountain Time Zone started to close, they had called five other states, three of them for the Democrats and therefore Blaine. He was currently leading, both in won states and electoral votes, but that didn't mean anything. Still, Kentucky turning blue had been a surprise. The Democrats hadn't won that state in _decades_.

Over the next hour, Florida and West Virginia turned red, then Ohio came through and turned blue. Blaine wanted to hug his home state, knowing that there was still a lot of controversy about his sexual preference, but just like they'd come through for him when he'd first run for senator, they had done it again today. A few of the small upper northeast states got called early in Blaine's favor, then some of the southern most got called for the Republicans.

Then came Alabama.

Blaine hadn't given the state much thought after the disastrous primary campaigning. He'd known all along that the state would most likely vote Republican anyway. Hell, if even the Democrats in the state didn't want Blaine, then winning the state was pretty much out of the question, and in the grand scheme of things the state wouldn't decide whether he would win the election or not.

At first Blaine didn't even notice that something was going on with Alabama's polling numbers. He was talking to Carole and Nate, though later he couldn't even tell what they'd been discussing. He just knew that at one point he got distracted by someone turning up the volume and the anchorwoman's voice suddenly filled the suite.

_“... did_ not _expect this. Every previous poll indicated that Alabama was a red state for sure, yet the current polling numbers show us quite the opposite. We will keep you apprised of the results, but so far it looks like Senator Anderson is in a neck and neck race with President Gordon.”_

“What?”

Blaine didn't even know he'd thought the word until it escaped his mouth. He startled, looking away from the TV and over to David who was staring straight back. “David, what's happening?”

“We're not sure.” That was Gabriel, hanging up the phone as he answered Blaine's question. “But it looks like the Republican voters of Alabama might've staged a protest.”

“A protest? What does that mean?” Blaine was so confused. He'd thought Alabamans _hated_ him!

“It means,” Wes chimed in, “that you're about to win a state that everyone thought for sure would be red.”

“But...” Blaine had no idea how to finish that sentence, so he just trailed off and let his gaze wander through the suite until it came to rest on Kurt who was looking back with a serene and reassuring look. It helped to calm Blaine down a little, but his heart was still beating rapidly in his chest.

“They're calling it!”

The surprised shout came from Carole, who had continued watching the TV. Everyone's gaze flew back to the anchorwoman, at her shell-shocked expression before she said, “And Senator Anderson wins Alabama.”

Blaine didn't believe it. He didn't believe it until the state turned blue on TV, before his very eyes, and Gabriel got a call confirming the result with a nod. Surprised cheers broke out of everyone currently present, still surprised and a little confused, but nevertheless happy about the result. Blaine just stared at the blue color of Alabama, the state that'd almost broken his spirit if it hadn't been for Kurt's strength.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, suddenly short of breath. He gasped for air, his vision swimming in front of him. “Holy shit,” he repeated, but it sounded choked. Suddenly there were hands on his shoulders, and one in his hair, but he couldn't hear anything except the echo of the anchorwoman's voice proclaiming that Blaine had won Alabama.

“Blaine, sweetheart, I need you to breathe.”

That was Kurt. Blaine knew that it was Kurt, but he couldn't interpret his words. His gaze snapped up until he met Kurt's blue eyes, who was watching him with concern and a wisp of panic. The words still didn't want to make sense, and there was blackness creeping up on his vision from the edges. Someone was grabbing his elbows and pulled him up. Kurt followed suit, leading the way somewhere while Blaine was guided. Then the background noise dropped away and Blaine was pushed down gently, and he sat down on something soft and yielding. And there was Kurt again, with his beautiful face and his beautiful eyes and his beautiful _everything_ grasping Blaine's hands and squeezing them tightly.

Then someone pressed his head down between his knees and Kurt said, “Just take deep breaths, Blaine. In and out. In. And out. That's it, just listen to my voice and breathe with me. In. Hold it. That's right. And now out. Good. And again.”

Blaine clung to Kurt's words, mimicked his breathing, and slowly the blackness receded, and the ringing in his ears subsided as well. He could hear other people talking quietly next to them while Kurt clung to Blaine's hands and talked him into breathing properly. Blaine had no idea how much time had passed, but when he raised his head from between his legs, nobody stopped him. The first thing he saw was Kurt's relieved face, and he smiled at him.

“Thank you,” Blaine rasped, and was almost surprised by how rough he sounded. A hand with a glass of water appeared in front of him, and when he looked up he saw Wes watching him in concern. He nodded his thanks at him and took the glass, draining it in a few greedy gulps. He felt better immediately, but he was still shell shocked.

He'd won Alabama. How the _hell_ had he managed that?

“You okay?” That was David. Blaine looked up until he spotted him near the door. He also saw Gabriel and Carole, and only then did he register that they were in the bedroom.

Blaine nodded, his hands suddenly shaking. “I'm fine,” he said, but his voice was wavering and he was pretty sure nobody believed him. He was proven right when David snorted and mumbled, “The hell you are.”

“They called Missouri and Illinois!” someone shouted from the other room, then Nate appeared in the door, looking surprised and elated in equal measures. “They're both blue.”

“What the actual fuck?” David exclaimed, sounding just as surprised and elated as Nate looked. “What's going on? None of our polls showed this outcome!”

There was a pregnant pause in which nobody said anything, then Gabriel pointed out, “He almost has all the electoral votes he needs.”

Another pregnant pause descended upon them, then Blaine choked out, “I think I'm going to be sick.”

That got everyone moving. Someone yelled for a bucket while someone else, probably Wes, pushed his head back down between his legs. He heard Carole ask someone to bring another glass of water and a few other people talking over each other.

“Everyone shut up!”

Kurt's voice wasn't too loud, but it had steely authority in every syllable and everyone complied with his command immediately. Blaine didn't raise his head, but he could imagine what kind of look must be on Kurt's face if they didn't even move anymore.

“Leave us alone.”

The demand was met with a feeble protest from Gabriel, but Kurt cut him off with a sharp, “My husband needs to calm the fuck down and he can't do that with all of you clucking over him. So get out, now!”

Nobody moved at first, the silence almost deafening. Then Carole said a quiet, “Alright, people, let's go.”

Everyone moved to the doors after that, emptying the room quickly. Wes' voice came from the door, asking a quiet, “You good?”

“We'll be fine,” Kurt answered, talking away from Blaine. “I've got this.”

He could only imagine that Wes was reassured, because a second later the door clicked and they were enveloped in silence. True silence, not the anticipatory one of a minute ago.

Then Kurt's hands were cupping Blaine's cheeks and he lifted his head until their eyes met. Kurt looked like he meant business. “Okay, Blaine. Talking time. What's going on?”

Blaine took a deep breath through his nose, then another when it didn't help. When Kurt lifted a demanding eyebrow at him, he pressed out, “I just didn't expect... I don't know. This is... I might actually win.”

The second brow joined the first on Kurt's forehead. “You know that's always been a strong possibility, you winning this thing, right?”

“I know! I just... knowing it in an abstract way and experiencing it are two different pairs of shoes. It's overwhelming and...” Blaine stopped, looked down at his hands clasped tightly in his lap, then confessed in a small voice, “I'm so _scared_ , Kurt. I'm terrified and I don't know why.”

“I think you're over-thinking it,” Kurt answered quietly, his hands running up and into Blaine's hair, raising his head carefully until they were looking at each other again. “You've worked _hard_ for this, Blaine. You knew you might win this election, and that your life will change. That _our_ lives will change, and that we'll have to sacrifice some things. And we prepared for that, we discussed that. I think right now, you're just thrown by the fact that people who expressed their distaste for you suddenly jumped on board and voted for you. It freaked you out, because you don't like surprises.”

Blaine choked out a laugh while Kurt's words sank in, realizing the truth of them. Kurt was right, of course. Blaine had never liked surprises. But Alabama _and_ Missouri voting for him? Hell, that had been more than a surprise. It had been a huge shock.

They didn't say anything for a moment, just watched each other while Blaine worked through his inner reasoning. Then Kurt smiled, a small and mischievous little smile that sent a shiver down Blaine's spine. “I know what you need. Give me your jacket.”

Blaine frowned, confused at first, but complying with Kurt's wish by slipping out of his suit jacket and handing it over. Kurt took it, stood up and walked over to a set of chairs, carefully hanging it up before he slipped out of his own jacket. Then he came back, a determined look on his face, and he nudged Blaine up and properly onto the bed. Blaine's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Kurt, what-”

“Quiet,” Kurt demanded in that silky, authoritative voice he very rarely used in the bedroom. Blaine shut up immediately, giving into Kurt's nudging and moving up the mattress. Kurt crawled over him as soon as Blaine's head hit the pillows, and he reached for Blaine's hands and entwined their fingers before raising them up and over Blaine's head. As soon as he felt the cool, smooth wood at the back of his hands, Kurt let go and instructed, “Grab on to that and don't let go.”

“Kurt, there are other people outside...”

Blaine's protest trailed off when Kurt put a finger against his lips and shook his head. “Put your hands around the bar and hold on,” he repeated, his voice brooking no argument. “I'll help you get out of your head.”

The promise, as much as its inflection, was enough to make Blaine's cock take notice of the proceedings and twitched in interest. Kurt must've felt it against his stomach, because a slow grin spread over his face, which only intensified when Blaine dutifully grabbed the wooden bar of the headboard and tightened his grip on it.

“There you go,” Kurt purred – fucking _purred_ \- and patted Blaine's side. He straightened up then, sitting back on Blaine's thighs to look down at him. He was gorgeous and so _powerful_ right now that it took Blaine's breath away. “Now close your eyes and don't move.”

Blaine's eyes closed before he even knew it, surprised and quite a bit turned on by Kurt's sudden dominance. But the darkness helped him to calm down, to settle back into the bed and just _feel_ for a moment. And what he could feel was Kurt's fingers on the fly of his pants, opening it and tugging on the fabric until it slid over Blaine's hips and down his legs, pooling around his ankles. And then there was Kurt's hot breath on his cock, moist and sweet when he kissed him through the fabric of his boxer briefs. Blaine bit down on a groan, mindful of the people on the other side of the door. Kurt's hand palmed Blaine's hip, stroking a teasing thumb under the fabric while the rest of his fingers fanned out over Blaine's side.

And then he peeled Blaine out of his boxers, stroked him firmly for a short moment before Blaine heard rustling. Suddenly there was wet, searing _heat_ enveloping him and it was _so hard_ not to thrust upwards. But he remembered Kurt's order not to move, and he didn't, just bit down on his lip instead and let his breath out from between his teeth. Kurt's hand patted his side, a hint of approval for Blaine's restraint in the touch.

But then Kurt backed off, and Blaine couldn't help the low whine in his throat at the sudden lack of touch. Something grazed the tip of his cock softly, and Blaine felt himself jump under the sudden contact. Then Kurt was back, his hot mouth sinking down and down and _down_ until his nose pressed against Blaine's stomach, breathing raggedly while he swallowed around Blaine's cock.

“ _Oh_ my...” Blaine started, but then bit his tongue so hard his eyes watered because if he hadn't, he would've thrust up and deeper into Kurt's throat while moaning the house down. But he'd promised Kurt he wouldn't move, and he wanted to please Kurt and be good for him. So he just curled his fingers harder around the headboard and tightened his grip until the wood creaked. Kurt hummed around him, probably to show his continued satisfaction with Blaine's obedience, before pulling back slowly until only the tip of Blaine's cock was still enveloped in moist heat. There was a teasing lick over the head, the rasp of Kurt's tongue so intense that Blaine's toes curled. Then, without warning, Kurt sank down again.

Blaine lost track of time after that, consisting only of feelings and sensations, like Kurt's mouth and his tongue swirling patterns over his heated flesh, and his hands cradling his balls while Kurt sucked him hard. His agile tongue licked down Blaine's length, over his balls, sucking them carefully, then licked his way back up to the tip and tasted that too.

It had been a long time since Blaine had been a teenager, but in that moment, while Kurt reduced him to putty in his hands, he felt like one all over again. He felt his orgasm start low in his gut before he even knew it, unable to prevent his toes from curling into the sheets. He opened his mouth in a surprised gasp, his grip on the headboard so hard now that his fingers ached. He managed to press out Kurt's name in warning, but that was as far as he got before the heat in his gut exploded and he came into Kurt's mouth.

In a distant part of his head, he registered Kurt petting Blaine's thigh while he let up from Blaine's cock, but he couldn't have opened his eyes if the world had been ending. Maybe it was, and he was already dead and gone to heaven. It sure felt like it.

Then he felt Kurt shift, slowly crawling up Blaine's body until he felt his breath warm on his lips. Blaine's mouth opened without hesitation, and he groaned into Kurt's mouth the moment their lips touched and Kurt's tongue slipped inside. He wanted to touch him _so bad_ , but Kurt hadn't given him permission yet to let go, so he didn't and just kissed him for all he was worth, thanking Kurt in the only way he could right now.

The kiss calmed down after a while, with Kurt's lips just nipping at his before he brushed his nose against Blaine's and whispered, “You can let go now.”

Blaine did so immediately, groaning again when the sensation of pins and needles started up in his arms. He lowered them carefully, wincing a little, but when he noticed Kurt tensing up, he grit his teeth and raised them until he could embrace him. Fisting his hands in Kurt's shirt, he pressed his open mouth against Kurt's neck and breathed, “I love you so much, I don't even know what to do with myself sometimes.”

He could feel the curl of Kurt's smile against his cheek, and a hand came up to pet his hair. “I can think of a thing or two for how you can thank me,” Kurt teased, his fingers scrubbing lightly over Blaine's scalp, soothing him and bringing him back down from his high.

Kurt shifted above him, and it was then that Blaine realized he was still hard. He pulled back and opened his eyes, looking up at Kurt with not a little guilt. Blaine shifted his leg and pressed it against the bulge in Kurt's pants, feeling a lick of pleasure at the slack-jawed expression fluttering over Kurt's face at the pressure. “You want me to help you with that?” he breathed against Kurt's cheek, already moving his leg in a slow rhythm that he knew would get Kurt off sooner rather than later, while his hand sneaked under Kurt's dress shirt until he found skin.

But Kurt's hand on his hip stopped him. “It's fine,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss against Blaine's temple. “This was about you.”

“Making you come will make me feel even better,” Blaine coaxed, raining soft kisses down Kurt's neck until he could suck on the patch of skin visible above his collar. He felt more than heard Kurt groan, his hips snapping forward to seek the offered friction from Blaine's leg. He knew that it wouldn't take much to get Kurt off, and that Kurt knew it as well. Whatever he was debating in his head right now, Blaine really wanted to see his husband come undone under his hands, just as much as Kurt had seen him come undone a few minutes ago.

“Please, Kurt, let me make you come,” he breathed, nosing the hair near Kurt's temple, and the defeated groan was enough for Blaine. His hand slid down over Kurt's chest until he felt the button and zipper of his pants. He made quick work of both, pushed the pants and underwear over Kurt's hip down to mid-thigh and palmed his ass on the way back up, pressing Kurt's hard cock against his own softening one.

“Oh, shit,” Kurt breathed, his hand tightening its grip in Blaine's hair for the fraction of a second. Blaine moaned deep in his chest, kissed his way over Kurt's neck up to his chin until he could lick back into his mouth. As soon as their tongues curled around each other, Blaine's fist closed around Kurt's cock and started jerking him off with the tight, practiced strokes he knew drove Kurt wild. And he was right: Kurt thrust into his fist with an urgency that belied his earlier statement of being fine, with low keening noises leaving his mouth whenever Blaine's thumb slipped over the head that was leaking precome everywhere. He just smiled against Kurt's mouth and continued to stroke him in sync with their deep kisses.

“Your shirt,” Kurt panted against Blaine's lips at one point, words slurred together and sounding only half there. His hands scrambled around between them until Blaine could feel the hem of his shirt being lifted and pushed up until it bunched under his armpits. There was _no way_ the residents on the other side of the door wouldn't know what they'd been doing in here, whether he had come on his shirt or not. But he indulged Kurt, pushed his husband's shirt up as well to get it out of the way as much as possible, then tweaked one of Kurt's nipples and twisted his wrist on an upstroke.

Kurt came with a surprised shout, muffling it against Blaine's shoulder. Blaine felt his come slide through his fingers, hitting his naked stomach while Kurt thrust mindlessly into his fist. He clamped his hand on the back of Kurt's neck and held him close, let him work through his orgasm in his own time and kept him secure in his arms.

When Kurt's breathing slowed down after a while, Blaine couldn't help the slow curl of his lips. “I was right,” he rasped, pressing a lingering kiss against Kurt's mouth. “I love making you come.”

“You're incorrigible,” Kurt said, giggling a little. He was smiling down at Blaine, and their noses touched briefly before he sank down into another long, languid kiss.

Time became unimportant in their little bubble of two, and Blaine admitted to himself that he could easily stay in bed like that, cuddling and kissing and locked away from the world forever. As it was, they were startled out of their solitude when loud cheers erupted on the other side of the door, cheers that only doubled in volume a minute later. Blaine's gaze moved back from the door and up to his husband who was looking down at him, eyebrow raised.

Blaine's heart thumped heavily in his chest.

“Do you think this is it?” he breathed, suddenly nervous and on edge just like before. Well, minus the possibility of a panic attack, but the nervousness was definitely back.

Kurt just leaned down to give him a quick kiss on the lips. “I doubt there are that many reasons for that much cheerfulness right now,” he pointed out, and Blaine grimaced at the soundness of that argument.

“In any case,” Kurt continued brightly while sitting up slowly and staring down at their rumpled clothes. He grimaced, then got that resigned look on his face that was usually reserved for Blaine's inability to put the orange juice back where it belonged. “We should definitely get cleaned up and go back out there.”

As if he'd evoked him, there was a sudden knock on the door and Wes' voice telling them, “You two better be decent when I'm opening this door in five minutes, or I'll sue your asses for mental cruelty.”

Blaine snorted before he could help himself, but Kurt didn't even hesitate before he turned his head and bellowed, “If you open that door before _we_ open it, you only have yourself to blame, Wesley Montgomery!”

There was a heavy silence for a beat, then a resigned, “ _Fine_! Have him ready and out here in five minutes then, Kurt. I mean it!”

“Make that ten,” Kurt shot back, not even listening to Wes' protests. He just looked back down at Blaine and grinned at him. “God, I missed bossing him around in your name.”

Blaine grinned right back. “And I totally missed you doing that.”

There was a heavy thump in his chest, and suddenly he couldn't breathe. Oh god, this was about to become _real_ , wasn't it? He would go out there and hear the news, would hear that he would no longer be Senator Blaine Anderson of Ohio, but the President of a whole nation.

Before he could fret himself into another panic, Kurt's body sank back down onto his and his hands cupped Blaine's cheeks. “Hey, look at me,” he urged, his gaze calm and intense when Blaine focussed on him.

“You're going to be fine,” Kurt promised, smiling sweetly down at him. “You're going to be _great_ , you hear me?”

Blaine swallowed, his throat clicking painfully, but he nodded. “I hear you,” he rasped out of his tight throat.

Kurt nodded, then sat up and slid out of the bed. As soon as he was standing up straight, he held out his hand for Blaine. “Come on, let's get you presentable.”

They washed up in the en-suite bathroom, and Kurt straightened out both their clothes as best he could, sighing in defeat when he couldn't get the wrinkles out of either of their shirts. Their luggage was in another hotel room entirely, so changing quickly was out of the question. At least they hadn't gotten come anywhere. “We can cover the wrinkles up with our suit jackets,” he mumbled, straightening Blaine's tie before leaning down and giving him a quick kiss. “We can always excuse it with a long, arduous evening.”

Blaine couldn't help the giggle that escaped him. “I wouldn't exactly say it was _arduous_ ,” he breathed against Kurt's lips. “Parts of it were very enjoyable indeed.”

“Glad I could help,” Kurt mumbled into Blaine's mouth before he licked back inside.

Before this new bout of kissing could escalate further, they heard another knock on the door and Gabriel's hesitant voice. “Not that I want to put you two under pressure or anything, but there's a phone call for you, Senator Anderson.”

Blaine's gaze flew up to Kurt, meeting his blue eyes that radiated a confidence Blaine needed desperately right now. He took a deep breath and grabbed Kurt's hand. “Okay, let's do this.”

He was eerily calm on his way to the door, while he opened it, and even when everyone turned to stare at them. Nobody commented on their rumpled states, just watched him walk over to the phone that waited for him. He took another deep breath and squeezed Kurt's hand before he let go of it. Then he picked up the phone.

On the other end was a young woman telling him to please hold for the President of the United States. Blaine stopped breathing for a moment, and he only started up again when he heard a click and President Gordon's voice saying, “Good evening, Senator Anderson. Please accept my congratulations.”

Blaine went on autopilot after that. He knew that he said words back to President Gordon, he knew that the man said things as well, probably wishing him luck in his new function, but later Blaine wouldn't be able to tell what had been spoken. He just nodded and accepted the president's wishes, and the whole thing was over in under two minutes. When he hung up, there was a long beat of silence in the whole room. Nobody seemed to be willing to say anything, and only the anchorwoman was providing some muted background noise.

When Blaine turned around, he was faced with anticipatory stares. Everyone in the room knew who that had been, and yet they all seemed to wait for his word of confirmation. Blaine could feel the smile stretching his lips, and he found Kurt's gaze immediately and held it while he said, “That was President Gordon. He conceded.”

The cheer was instantaneous. Kurt was in his arms and hugging him hard between one blink and the next, almost pushing them both to the floor with his enthusiasm. Blaine just slung his arms around his husband's waist and held on, putting his chin over his shoulder and looking around at the people with them in the suite. He could see Gabriel let out a loud victory shout, and Wes falling into David's arms. Carole was covering her eyes with her hand while Nate's wife rubbed her back. Nate himself was pressing his forehead against Colbert's shoulder, who didn't seem fazed by that at all and just pressed a hand to the back of Nate's head while he smiled up at his son with such pride that Blaine could feel it from where he was standing.

“I love you so much,” Kurt suddenly whispered against his ear, and that's when the tears came. Blaine blinked hard, but the prickling behind his eyes just got worse, so he pressed his face against Kurt's shoulder and breathed against his shirt, taking him in and calming down a little when his scent hit Blaine's nose. He tightened his grip around Kurt's waist and didn't let go, and neither did Kurt.

In the end, they had to disentangle when Gabriel cleared his throat next to them and said, “They just announced it on TV. We should probably go down now.”

Right, the speech. Or speeches, rather. First he would speak in front of the staffers in the ballroom downstairs, and when he was done with that, there were about 20,000 people waiting for him on the Ohio State Campus. Blaine had no idea how he was going to get through _two_ speeches without dying from a heart attack due to adrenaline overdose, but he couldn't disappoint his supporters by not showing up. He owed them _everything_ , after all.

Focus. He needed to focus. Blaine nodded into Kurt's shoulder, took one last deep breath, then let go and looked at Gabriel. He knew that he never would've made it without this man's input and dedication to the cause. So before he could stop himself, he'd pulled Gabriel into a crushing hug and thanked him in a throaty voice. Gabriel was surprised for a moment, but then he hugged back without saying a word.

That seemed to start the hugging. Before long, Blaine had hugged everyone in the room – except Colbert, but nobody would dare to hug the man unless you were his son or Nate – and was gently but nonetheless insistently pushed to the doors. The butterflies were back in his stomach, now that the time for his acceptance speech had come. He looked over his shoulder, searching for Kurt, but he was already there by his side, grabbing his hand. A pair of Secret Service agents swarmed around them the moment they left the suite and made their way to the elevators.

The ride was short, yet nerve wracking and intense for Blaine. He went over what he wanted to say, what people much smarter than him had written for him to say, and only Kurt's tight grip on his hand helped him to stay in the present. This was intense, and insane. He probably wouldn't sleep properly for the next four years, always afraid he would wreck the country even more than President Gordon had.

But then the elevator doors opened, and another pair of agents trailed them on their way to the ballroom where they could hear people shouting and celebrating. Blaine stopped when someone with a clipboard told him to, then breathed deep and evenly so he wouldn't puke. Kurt's grip tightened for the fraction of a second before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Blaine's cheek. “Go get them, sweetheart,” he breathed against his ear, and when Blaine turned his head to look at him, Kurt just smiled.

It gave Blaine courage in a way nothing else would have. He smiled back, raised their hands and pressed a lingering kiss against Kurt's knuckles. Then it was quiet, and someone announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, I have the utmost honor to present to you the future President of the United States.”

A roar of applause branded up, and after one last fortifying breath, Blaine put on his game face and walked out on the stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Call me predictable, but I already knew he would win before I even started writing this. Hey, first gay President? Heck, yeah :)
> 
> I also seemed to have lied about the total word count. When I said the story was about 42k, I didn't realize that I would add another 2k to the total amount while I re-read the chapters individually before posting them. So, yeah. There will be an Epilogue posted tomorrow, and after that we're done.


	9. Epilogue

_[Seven months later]_

With a flourish, Blaine signed the last papers of the day before he sighed and pushed his hands through his hair. He closed his eyes, let his head fall back and just breathed for a moment. The silence in his office was soothing, almost blissful after three weeks of crisis after crisis that needed his attention _right now_. He'd barely seen Kurt during that time, and he was this close to giving up his soul to the devil for just one undisturbed evening with his husband.

After a deep breath, Blaine's head fell back forward and he reached for the phone. He pushed the button for the intercom and smiled when Laura's brisk, “Yes, Mr. President?” came over the line.

“You know, you can still call me Blaine,” he told her, closing the binder with the correspondence he'd just signed. “I'm still the same person. Nothing has really changed except for my job description.”

“That would be a sacrilege, sir,” Laura shot back immediately, though Blaine could practically hear her grin over the line. “If I do that, it would be like calling the King of England by his first name.”

“You mean you don't?”

“Very funny, sir.”

Blaine grinned, trying to not let his fondness for her bleed through too much. “Kurt always thought so.”

Laura snorted. “Well, he's your husband, sir. He's kind of obligated to think you're funny.”

“Ouch,” Blaine replied, no longer able to suppress his laughter. “I think I'm hurt, Laura.”

“I'm sorry, sir.” Judging by her tone, she wasn't sorry at all.

Blaine shook his head, still grinning. “Leaving aside that I think you're a lying liar who lies, I just wanted to let you know that I'm done with my correspondence and wanted to say goodbye for today. Unless there's something else pressing that needs my immediate attention?”

He sincerely hoped that wasn't the case, or that it was something that his Chief of Staff could handle. If he didn't get home on time today of all days, he wasn't so sure that Kurt wouldn't stage a coup d'état. Kurt had put up with a lot these past few weeks - months, _years_ \- and it would be poor repayment to be late to dinner for their fifth wedding anniversary.

Or miss it entirely, for that matter. If that was going to be the case, then Blaine pitied the fool who prevented Blaine from appearing. Kurt would show them no mercy.

Laura cleared her throat, and Blaine felt his heart sink. Oh no, this wasn't going to be good. “Well, sir, you have one more visitor, but after that you're free to go.”

Blaine grimaced. One visitor didn't sound so bad. Maybe it wasn't anything important? But, just to be sure, he asked, “It's not another world crisis that'll chain me to my chair for the next three days, is it? Because I can't promise that Kurt won't butt the heads together of whoever's responsible, just to get them to act like grown men.”

He heard Laura unsuccessfully trying to swallow a laugh, then she replied, “As far as I know, no immediate worldly crisis is currently happening, sir.”

“My marriage thanks you for that,” Blaine muttered, then breathed out slowly. “Okay, send them in.”

He chanced a look at the clock and sent a quick prayer to heaven that he'd be out of here in ten minutes. He really didn't want to make Kurt wait.

The door to his office opened, revealing Laura and – his husband.

Blaine gaped, then grinned brightly and stood up, his heart suddenly ten pounds lighter than before. “Kurt!” he exclaimed, grinning so hard by now that his cheeks hurt. He didn't care. Kurt was grinning just as hard as he was.

Laura raised an eyebrow at the both of them. “Don't have sex in here,” she said pointedly before she closed the door behind herself, leaving Blaine staring at it with a horrified expression on his face.

“I wasn't...” he started, then trailed off when Kurt put a hand to the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Well, on second thought, her concerns might've been just a tad justified.

“Hey, you,” Blaine mumbled when Kurt drew back. “I was actually on my way out, if you can believe that.”

“Oh, I do,” Kurt assured him. “I just wanted to make absolutely sure that you won't get held up. So here I am.”

“Here you are.” Blaine's smile was back and he put his arms around Kurt's waist. “And what was your plan, Mr. Anderson?”

There was a tiny smirk pulling on the corner of Kurt's mouth when he twisted out of Blaine's embrace with a graceful move, walking over to the stereo system and pulling something out of his suit jacket's pocket. “I wanted to bathe in the glory days of yesteryear, actually.”

Blaine's eyebrows shot up when the thing Kurt had pulled out turned out to be a USB stick. Talking about yesteryear; he hadn't seen a USB stick as a storage device in _years_. Blaine crossed his arms over his chest and sat down on the back of a couch, watching Kurt fiddling with the stereo before he turned around and waited, still smirking.

As soon as the first few notes started playing, Blaine couldn't help but throw his head back and laugh loudly before he hid his eyes behind his hand.

“You didn't,” he managed to get out through his embarrassed laughter.

“I definitely did,” Kurt replied, pulling Blaine's hand away from his face and putting it on Kurt's hip instead. “Couldn't have you christen this office with your dancing while I'm not here, could I?” Blaine's grip tightened a little at his words, bunching the fabric of his finely cut pants before Kurt tugged at him and Blaine stood back up, stepping right into Kurt's arms.

“Did I ever tell you that I wanted to join you so bad, that day in your office?” Kurt murmured against Blaine's ear, making him shiver.

“You did?” Blaine breathed, his arm snaking up and around Kurt's waist, swaying him a little to the cheery beat of the music.

Kurt nodded. “Oh yes. Not only did I fall head over heels for you, but I wanted to grab your hands and belt those lyrics out with you. You looked so carefree in that moment, I just wanted to be part of that.”

Blaine had thought he'd gotten used to Kurt's affectionate words over the years, but once in a while he said something unexpectedly sweet and Blaine's heart skipped and rattled in his chest as if he was falling in love with this man all over again. And maybe he was, because how could he not? Kurt was unique, one in a million, and he was _Blaine's_.

“You know what?” he said quietly, smiling at his husband while slowly slipping out of his embrace. “You should get your chance.”

“What?” Kurt looked puzzled, but still amused. Blaine only waggled his eyebrows at him.

“How about it, Mr. Anderson? You wanna groove and move with me?”

Kurt had finally caught on. Cocking his hip, he pointed a finger at Blaine and declared, “Bring it, Mr. President.”

Oh, it was _on_!

Blaine didn't lose any time. He shimmied around the couch and started singing alongside the lead singer's voice, his eyes daring Kurt to follow along. And Kurt met his challenge, answering Blaine's lyrics, joining him in a few lines, always dancing with or around him. They were laughing at each other as much as they were egging each other on. At one point, Blaine couldn't resist and jumped up on the couch. It was testament to how much Kurt was into the performance that he didn't give him a reproachful look for that. Instead he walked alongside Blaine while he walked over the cushions, meeting him at the end of the couch where Blaine sank down on his knees and belted out, “ _You're what?_ ”

And Kurt didn't lose a beat. He leaned forward, raised a hand and sang, “ _Tin. Roof. Rusted!_ ”

He looked so hot and ridiculous at the same time that Blaine dissolved into helpless giggles and fell back onto the couch. He could hear Kurt laugh as well, then his weight sank down onto Blaine when he crawled up and over him. He looped his arm around Kurt's waist, pulling him closer until Kurt's face was hovering above his, and Blaine couldn't help but draw him into a deep and frantic kiss, moaning around Kurt's tongue when he licked into Blaine's mouth.

Blaine lost track of time for a bit there, and when they finally reemerged from their brief make out session, the music had stopped and the only thing audible was their heavy breathing. Blaine looked up at Kurt, his thumb rubbing carefully over Kurt's swollen lower lip. That earned him a sweet little smile that made Blaine's heart beat faster.

“I'm so glad I met you,” he whispered, leaning up to press a lingering kiss against Kurt's lips. A hand slid over his cheek, cradling his jaw and changing the angle until Kurt could deepen the kiss once more. It didn't turn quite so heated again, though. Instead, Kurt nipped at Blaine's lips one more time before drawing back.

“You're the love of my life, Blaine Anderson.”

Blaine's throat tightened at the admission, and he couldn't stop himself from pulling Kurt into a crushing hug. “And you are mine,” he confessed, his voice hoarse. Kurt's arms wiggled under him until he could pull Blaine just as hard against his own body as Blaine was doing with him. They remained like that for a long moment, with Kurt's head pressed against Blaine's chest while Blaine stroked lazily up and down Kurt's back. It was soothing in a way very few things had been in the last few weeks.

“Let's get out of here,” Kurt said after a while. “Much as I like this place, I'd rather have you on our own couch right now.”

Blaine nodded, reluctant to let his husband go just yet, but knowing that if they remained any longer in his office they might be tempted to ignore Laura's instruction and christen it after all. And really, Blaine didn't want to become famous as the president who got beaten to death by his head secretary because he'd had sex with his husband in the Oval Office.

“Excellent suggestion,” he replied, letting go of Kurt so he could sit up. They stared at each other as soon as they were both vertical again, and a mischievous grin appeared on Kurt's face.

“Want to bet on how loud Laura will shout when she sees us?”

Blaine's gaze wandered over Kurt's appearance, his disheveled clothes and hair and his kiss swollen lips. Blaine didn't even want to hazard a guess as to how he himself looked right now. “How about we forego that shouting match and make our way to the residence via the porch?”

“Spoilsport,” Kurt teased, but got up and straightened his clothes as best as he could. Blaine raked a hand through his hair before he went over to his desk and pressed the intercom button.

“We're off now, Laura. Have a nice evening.”

There was a short beat of silence before Laura's resigned voice asked, “Do I have to send in a cleaning crew?”

Blaine choked on nothing and looked over at Kurt who was biting his lip in order not to laugh out loud. Blaine cleared his throat. “Not necessary, Laura. I promise.”

“Glad to hear it, Mr. President. You have a nice night now.”

“See you tomorrow.” He ended the connection, grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and, after he'd put it on, held his hand out for Kurt to take, who did so without hesitation.

He let Kurt step through the opened glass door first, then followed him out into the mild spring evening. He stopped for a moment, closed his eyes and breathed in the air. Five months in the office, and he still got the feeling as if he was intruding.

Kurt's hand on the small of his back pulled him back to the present. Blaine smiled at him, reached for his hand again and entwined their fingers. He nodded a greeting at the Marines on guard duty when they started walking over the porch to the residence, a Secret Service detail trailing them at a respectable distance. He was still surprised how fast both he and Kurt had gotten used to having a shadow everywhere they went, but the agents following them around were just doing their job, and he was humbled by the knowledge that they would lay down their lives for them.

When they entered their home, something from the kitchen smelled really good. Blaine knew that Kurt had given the chef the evening off tonight, wanting to do the cooking by himself for a change. He threw his husband a questioning look. “I hope I haven't ruined your dinner by making you wait.”

“No, it'll be fine,” Kurt assured him and pulled him into the direction of the kitchen.

And it was. The meal was delicious, and so was the wine they had with it. They were a little tipsy by the end, giggling like schoolboys on their first date and trading kisses ranging from short and friendly to long and deep and dirty. When they were both finished with eating, Blaine expected to be dragged off to the bedroom immediately to celebrate their anniversary, but he was surprised again when Kurt steered him into the direction of their living room instead.

He saw the time capsule from their wedding sitting on the low couch table as soon as he entered the room. He threw a knowing look at Kurt over his shoulder. “It's almost surreal that it's been five years already. I feel like I said my vows to you only yesterday.”

Kurt's eyes softened at his admission and he drew him in by the lapels for another deep kiss before he pushed Blaine into direction of the couch.

“Let's see what people wrote us.”

“Talking about a blast from the past,” Blaine mumbled, but bit down on a grin when Kurt threw him a dirty look. He walked over to the liquor cabinet and pulled out another bottle of wine and two glasses. Blaine sank deeper into the cushions and watched him under lowered lashes. Kurt was still slender, still so graceful and otherworldly, just like he'd been when they first met. He still made Blaine forget how to breathe sometimes.

Before he could get all mushy, Kurt turned and came back with their glasses full of a deep red wine. He put them down on the table, then reached for the time capsule and opened the lid.

“Weren't we supposed to do that together?” Blaine asked, amusement lacing his voice. Kurt just raised an eyebrow at him and pointedly reached inside to grab a handful of cards.

They giggled their way through a couple of cards from friends who'd written silly messages, and also cooed over sappy romantic anecdotes. `By the time you are reading this, Jordan and I will be married as well.` said one card, and Blaine got a kick out of reading it because that particular prediction had turned out to be true. They'd tied the knot three months ago in a quiet ceremony, attended only by their closest friends.

A few other cards were just generic hallmark wishes, and while not especially creative, they both knew that the wishes came from the bottom of every individual writer's heart. Still, Blaine rolled his eyes especially hard when he read an inspirational quote from some philosopher that practically screamed Wes had to be the author. He was just about to show it to Kurt, when he felt him stiffen next to him on the couch. Blaine looked up, immediate concern coursing through him when he saw that Kurt had turned white as a sheet.

“Are you okay?” he asked, putting a hand on Kurt's thigh immediately. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Kurt whispered, still staring down at the card for a frozen second before he started to dig through the remaining cards, sorting out a stack and clasping them tightly to his chest.

“Kurt? What's going on?” Blaine was starting to get really worried here, and Kurt seemed to have heard that in his voice. He stopped, took a deep breath and wordlessly held the card that had made him freeze up out for Blaine to take.

Blaine was confused and still concerned, but he plucked the card out of Kurt's hand and read it.

`No matter what other people say, you two were meant for each other. You'll make each other happy.`

It took Blaine a moment to place the handwriting, and when he did, a shock went through his whole body. He looked up quickly and at Kurt who was reading the other cards he'd sorted out frantically. He looked sad, but also surprised and a little relieved, if that made sense.

“Kurt?” Blaine asked quietly. He wanted to ask if Kurt was okay, or if Blaine needed to get out the hot chocolate.

But Kurt smiled. He didn't look at Blaine, but at the cards in his lap. “There are more. He wrote us a whole bunch of cards, Blaine.”

Only then did he look up, and while his eyes shone with tears, he looked happier than he'd done in all the years since Burt's death. Blaine didn't even think: he pulled Kurt in until he could press a kiss against his temple. “Tell me,” he whispered, pressing his nose against Kurt's hair.

Kurt took a deep breath, then shuffled through the cards until he found one he wanted to share. “This one says, `'When you were young, I always knew you were meant for great things, Kurt. I was proven right. You're amazing.'`”

Blaine smiled against Kurt's hair, turning his head until he could look down at Kurt's lap as well. His hands reached for a card at random and he held it up to see what it said.

`I know you will mourn me, Kurt. Don't. You'll honor me more if you live your life to the fullest. Do that with Blaine, he'll help you.`

Blaine bit his lip and felt the telltale prickling behind his eyes. Kurt's hand closed over his wrist, squeezing it tightly. “You did help,” Kurt whispered, voice hoarse with emotion. “You helped me to live my life.”

“The same way you helped me live mine,” Blaine replied, letting the card fall back down and rotating his wrist until he could grasp Kurt's hand. He pulled the hand up to his mouth and kissed the wedding band encircling the ring finger.

“I couldn't have done this without you and your support,” he breathed against the platinum band.

Kurt's grip tightened around his hand, and he turned his head until he could press a kiss against the corner of Blaine's mouth. “I'd do it all again in a heartbeat.”

They settled back down, with Kurt curled under Blaine's arm and both of them looking down at the pile of cards. Blaine reached for another one, hoping that it would be a little more uplifting.

`When you have kids of your own – and you will – they'll be just as amazing as you are. And you'll be as proud of them as I am of you.`

There was a stab of regret in Blaine's chest at the words. With him winning the election, their plans for a family of their own were on indefinite hold. He tightened his grip on Kurt for a moment and asked worriedly, “Are you happy, Kurt?”

He could practically feel Kurt's confusion. “Of course I am,” he answered, sorting through the remaining cards from Burt. “Why shouldn't I be?”

“It's just...” Blaine started, unsure how to continue. In the end he settled for, “We always wanted kids. And I'm sorry that you'll have to wait even longer now for it to happen.”

Kurt sighed, his hand finding Blaine's on his shoulder and entwining their fingers. “Blaine. I never wanted to be a single father, and if we got kids right now, I'd effectively be one. I don't just want kids, I want a _family_ with you.”

Blaine's throat clicked when he swallowed painfully, but he mustered up a smile when Kurt added, “Besides, it's not like we don't have quite a lot of kids right now. 360 million of them, to be exact.”

Blaine snorted and leaned back until he could look at Kurt. “Did you just call the U.S. population 'our kids'?”

“Why not?” Kurt replied, giving Blaine a small smile. “They sure act like it sometimes.”

He turned serious a second later, leaning his forehead against Blaine's. “All joking aside, we knew this would happen if you won. I made my peace with it two years ago. I find it honorable of you that you want to give me everything, but our personal needs will have to take a step back for the time being. Maybe when you're more settled in your function as president we can talk about it again, but right now it would only lead to disaster.”

“But you're so lonely sometimes, Kurt,” Blaine whispered, cradling the back of his head.

Kurt just smiled. “I'll be fine. I can keep myself busy. I promise.”

“If you're sure...” Blaine trailed off when Kurt glared at him.

“I'm sure. Now shut up and cuddle me some more.”

Blaine chuckled quietly, but pulled Kurt back against his side as instructed and reached for another card.

They may not have reached all the goals they'd set out when they'd gotten married, but right now, they were both happy with where they were. And really, in the end you couldn't ask for more from life than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap.
> 
> It's mind boggling to think that this whole series got started because I had watched "Love Actually" and wanted to cast Blaine in the role of the Prime Minister. I'm not kidding, I just wanted to write a scene where he was someone important and danced through his office and got caught by his PA Kurt Hummel. Well... 100,000 words later we all know where that landed us.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your continued support while I posted this, and even before that when you gave this silly little series a chance and got excited and enthusiastic about it. I'm pretty sure it would've fizzled out at one point if Senator Blaine hadn't gotten a following of his own. So thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, that you took this adventure with me.


End file.
